


This Little Light of Mine

by Creative_Cabbage



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Collection of one-shots, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Literally the best thing I have ever written, M/M, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creative_Cabbage/pseuds/Creative_Cabbage
Summary: Going comic by comic, this fic explores Jack's perspective on the major moments of his and Bitty's relationship.All standalone (ish) one-shots of Jack and Bitty being the cutest couple.





	1. Ray of Sunshine

May 2015

"Bittle, you are a fuckin' ray of human sunshine," Shitty slurred, already drunk at 7:45 in the evening. "Like, write that as your epitaph on your tombstone, or somethin'." 

Jack, in the kitchen on a beer run, was surprised that Shitty could even remember the word 'epitaph' with how much alcohol he had already consumed. But, it was just another Friday night in the Haus. Most of the team was crowded around the television, watching whatever they were talking about on ESPN and getting drunk. And there were a lot of them today. Jack only emerged from the kitchen when a loud thump sounded from the dining room. Ever the concerned captain, he rushed to make sure that nobody had passed out drunk this early in the evening. 

Instead, he saw Bitty, dragged off of the arm of Ransom's chair, into what Shitty was calling the 'Cuddle Huddle'. Shitty was still spewing even more drunken affection on one, very flustered, Eric Bittle was dragged into a hug with naked Shitty. 

So, just another Friday night in the Haus. 

"Oh, thank you Shitty!" Bitty said, cheeks red, trying not to laugh. "Which do you actually love more - my cookin' or my personality?" 

"The pie is a big plus," Shitty said. "But you, yourself, are just fucking sunshine."

"And you've had more than enough to drink," Lardo said, using her position at the other end of the 'Cuddle Huddle' to pass Shitty's beer to Jack. "Deal with this - I'm cutting him off. I don't want to hear his whining about a hangover tomorrow." 

"Thanks, Lards," Shitty said, feebly raising his head to look at her. "I'm gonna miss you too." 

Bitty, still stuck in the middle of this pile on the floor, was getting redder and redder by the second. He, obviously, had not reached the limit of drunkenness that allows oneself to shamelessly cuddle with a naked Shitty. Jack saw this as his chance to rescue a damsel in distress, especially as he had found himself in situations very similar over the last four years. 

"Bits the timer for whatever you were making earlier is about to go off," Jack said, lying. "You should go check it."

"My dough!" he said, pushing at Shitty's chest. "Get off me you oaf, unless you want chewy cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning."

Bitty scrambled to his feet when Shitty released his stranglehold. "Thank you," Bitty said, straightening his shirt. If you want, I could help rolling the dough?" Bitty asked, already dragging Jack into the kitchen by his wrist."  Wanna help me roll out the dough and coat it?"

"I wouldn't know how?" Jack said, watching Bitty pull a massive wad of dough out of the microwave. "Do you trust me to not mess up our breakfast?."

"Don't be silly. If you can lattice a pie, you can help me make cinnamon rolls. It's easy." He tore the lump of dough in half and plopped a piece onto the counter in front of Jack. "Of course I trust you." 

"I failed to lattice that pie, Bittle," Jack said, but he was already coating his hands in flour. "Easy for you is damn near impossible for everyone else."

"You flatter me," Bitty said, handing over a rolling pin. "I trust you to not mess up our breakfast." 

"Now you're flattering me," Jack said, as he started rolling out the dough. He really wasn't complaining - he'd learn to love baking with Bitty. 

The squish of dough, and the warmth of standing shoulder to shoulder. Bitty didn't expect anything out of him, he was content to just chatter away, and gently correcting Jack when he ripped the dough or rolled it out to thin. There was no need for anxiety when baking with Bittle, it was all too easy to bask in the warm, happy glow that Bitty carried around with him. 

What had Shitty said? Something around Bitty being an 'actual ray of sunshine'?

It was all too accurate. Bitty was so warm, and he was so bright. He lit up the whole house with his presence and everyone seemed to gravitate around him. Jack always found himself studying in the kitchen while Bitty baked.

Conversation with Bittle wasn't a requirement. He was the kind of person that would chatter at you for hours and not care if you listened. Jack felt safe around Bitty; he never had that constant fear of rejection when Bitty was in the room.

Jack couldn't stop thinking about it. The cinnamon rolls were rising in the microwave, and they joined the crowd in the living room.

Bitty - well past tipsy - lit up the room. Squished into the armchair next to Lardo, his bright and clear laugh lit up the room. It was too easy to notice Bittle; his laugh, his bright hair, and the smudge of flour still on the collar of his dark shirt.

Jack chalked it up to consuming more alcohol than usual. He set his fourth beer of the evening - half full - in the sink and grabbed a bottle of water instead. It was better to be safe rather than sorry.

But still. He couldn't stop thinking about Bittle. He went to bed that night - hours later - to flip through his final Photography assignment. There was one picture of Bittle, caught when the sun was setting behind the kitchen window. He'd caught a candid moment, Bitty laughing and covered in flower.

What was that song he always sang? Something about a Halo?

Jack laughed at the irony and shut the laptop, intending to sleep.

It was hours later when his tossing and turning finally turned into dozing.

* * *

 

He managed to not think about it for the next few weeks, burying it under all his other concerns. He had to worry about hockey, and graduation, and a new oven, and finishing off his year at Samwell, and kissing the ice. 

That night, when he and Shitty kissed the ice, was by far the most emotional and the best night of his life. The bonfire of the roof, getting way too drunk with all of his teammates. There was something about the finality of the situation that made it the best night Jack had ever spent at Samwell. 

When Bitty returned his jacket the next morning it smelled like him.

Jack didn't know why that was something he was so fixated on. The coat smelled like Bitty, a smell that wafted around the house. But it still smelled like Bitty. Like baked goods, men's shampoo, alcohol and a little bit of sweat. It helped him cope with the hollow feeling that was growing in his chest as graduation crept closer.

He didn't take it off for an entire day.

Still, despite his efforts to squash them thoughts of graduation and losing his team just wouldn't go. Jack fretted about losing the Haus, and it's fragrant warm kitchen. He tossed and turned worrying about losing his friends, and not having enough time in his new life to see them. He was especially worried about not having time to see Bitty...       play and see how much that he would improve.

Most nights he had to turn on a  history podcast, roll over, and force himself to stop thinking and start sleeping. 

The whole "Ray of Fucking Sunshine" quote wasn't allowed to cross his mind for the rest of the month. Until it bubbled back up to the surface. Those stupid, slurred words that were trying to burn themselves into some parts of Jacks' brain. "Ray of fucking sunshine" 

Jack didn't realize exactly how much they mattered until graduation. He hadn't let their real meaning sink in until Bitty was walking away. Instead, Jack shoved had shoved the impending loss of a certain blond hockey player to the back of his brain. Now he was here, standing in the bright sunlight of the quad and watching Bittle's retreating form. 

 Bitty was walking away. All they had beyond this moment was the promise to see each other before their seasons started. Jack would watch Samwell games, and Bitty would watch Providence games. And when else would their busy lives allow each other to see each other.

And it was his Dad's fucking Gretzky quote that got him. The "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take" and the whole "follow your heart". Like what stereotypical Dad Advice. It was the kind of shit he would jokingly tell the team before games.

But it hit him in a whole new way. Here he was, standing by Samwell Pond, letting the only shot in his life that ever truly matter wander away. How could he have been so stupid as to have not realized exactly who was living across the hall from him. 

How could he survive when he would be living his life 40 minutes away from the sun? How could he exist so far away from the first person that had  _truly_ understood him since Kent? How could he let Eric Bittle the - 

 

 

Oh.

 

 

So he started running. He didn't even quite know why he was running, or wherein the hell he was actually going. But his feet traced a path that he'd taken hundreds of times, and he was thundering up the stairs of the Haus.

He had to see Bitty.

His room was empty, and Jack panicked. Bitty had left for Georgia. He was gone. They would never have another moment like this. Jack was going to live his life without this bright, effervescent human being living and knowing everything he had to express in that second. 

 

 

*sniff*

 

 

Jack spun. Bitty was in his old room, clutching one of Chowder's shirts, headphones in. He didn't hear it as Jack stumbled into his room, tripping over his own feet in his haste to eliminate the distance between them. Finally, Bitty spun around, suprise in his eyes and tear stained cheeks aimed up at Jack. 

His eyes were as wide as saucers, and Jack knew with absolute certianty what he had to do. What he'd been missing out on doing for the last year? Two years? The one shot he'd nearly missed was standing here - right in front of him. And he knew what he had to do, it was right there, in his blood. Like all those times he knew the exact angle and pressure he needed to score a goal. 

And yet, like nothing else he'd ever experienced before. 

So Jack kissed him. Jack kissed Bitty, cutting through the torrent of words rushing out of his mouth. And, even as he leaned in - eyes squeezed shut and heart pounding in his throat he couldn't articulate exactly why he was here, kissing Eric Bittle. He just knew that he wouldn't be able to live the rest of his life if he didn't do it. 

But the kiss blossomed everything he'd never understood. Eric Bittle was the fucking sun, and Jack couldn't stand to exist anything more than a few feet away.

Jack Zimmermann was in love.


	2. Madison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was re-written from a previous fic, Hesitant because I'm lazy and the plot was the only good part of the old one. I hope you like the changes! (I sure as hell do)

Jack's tickets had him landing at 12:45 on July 3rd. He knew this because he'd checked the departure time on his phone twice, printed off two copies of his boarding pass, and couldn't stop checking the time.

He had three hours. The Uber was already on its way, his bags were packed, and he was fine. There was no way he was going to miss this flight. There was no way he wasn't going to be landing in Georgia in less than eight hours, and then he'd be there.

In Madison.  
With Bittle.

Did Bittle even want him to be there?

That was stupid. He was being stupid. Logic this out. The last text Bittle had sent him was nothing but positive. He was overjoyed that Jack was coming down for a visit. Still, was he overjoyed that his friend was coming? Or that his more-than-friend was coming?

The driver texted. He was parked outside Jack's building and it was now or never. Jack just had to pull up his big girl panties and march his way outside, into the taxi cab, and find out if Bittle even wanted him as a boyfriend.

God. His heart leaped into his throat at that word. Boyfriend. He could be Bittle's boyfriend and be able to touch and kiss him. He could - potentially - wake up next to Bittle's bright, shining face every morning for the rest of his life.

He needed to find out. Jack's feet started moving. If anything, Jack and Bittle were friends. He could still orbit around Bittle, enjoy his easy smiles and pet names. Besides, Bittle was expecting him. It would be rude to just wimp out.

But his heart wouldn't find it's way out of his throat.

Jack, as usual, gave his Uber driver five stars. He hadn't pressed for conversation, something Jack usually ended up tipping more for. If he didn't have to talk all that much, he was happy to shell out a few extra bucks.

He remembered Bittle had laughed when Jack told him. They were on the phone when Jack was catching a cab back from a work event, and Bittle had balked at how much Jack had tipped. When he found out why the other end of the phone had become alight with the sound of his laughter.

Everything seemed to revolve around Bittle now. The kiss had changed his life. He operated not on time, but on the seconds between when he got to talk to Bittle. He even wore the bright yellow tennis shoes Bittle thought were hilarious and the shirt that he insisted brought out Jack's eyes.

Even the music Jack listened to while he waited for boarding call was Bittle influenced. Originally a workout playlist to get him to listen to "normal music", it had turned into Jack's everything playlist - cooking, showering, driving. It made him smile, and reminded him of the hours Bittle's music would leak out of his room into his own.

God, he was so gone. He shook his head. If he were in the vicinity of Ransom and Holster he'd be up to his ears in fines. And just like that, his mind was off running the races again.

Oh god. Were they going to tell the team? Were they even something to tell the team about? Was Jack going to have to come out to the public? If he dated Bittle it would be a matter of time - there was no way he would ever hide him away. But would Bittle even want to hide in the first place? Which, really, did they have something to hide?

He shook his head, trying to clear away the persistent anxiety cobwebs. He had a good long while until his flight departed, he should distract himself. There was a Starbucks kiosk behind his gate - and in his last few texts, Bittle had been mentioning this new summer drink.

He boarded the plane with this coffee in hand. It was way sweeter than he ever would have bought for himself, but Bittle seemed to like it. Jack didn't really understand how Bittle's tiny body could process that much coffee. Was there a rule about grams of caffeine based on BMI?

He chuckled to himself, pulling out his phone to text it to Bittle before the plane took off. He nestled back in his seat, already imagining Bittle's sassy response. Probably something about how he was 5'6" and a half. Jack would give him the usual chirps about how he didn't know what a foot was. He used the metric system like a true Canadian.

God, now he could chirp Bittle in person. He dozed off reliving the flush in his cheeks and the sassy light in his eyes. It wouldn't be distorted by awful laptop cameras, it would be there in front of him. He could kiss that stupid smirking face.

If Bittle wanted to. It always came back to that. Jack blamed Shitty for all his doubts that Bittle wanted to go through with it. Consent is important, Jack. Make sure Bittle was sure about this before embarking on a grand romantic gesture.

(Like sprinting across campus to kiss him)

But the second Jack saw Bittle's face across the crowd at baggage claim, he knew. He knew he'd do anything to be able to wake up to that grinning face every morning and go to sleep surrounded by this amazing human being.  
It took him by surprise, but Jack was certain that he was in love with Eric Bittle.

He just needed to know if Bittle felt the same. Reciprocation and consent and all that bullshit Shitty went on and on about. Bitty needed to be sure too.

Bittle didn't seem to notice Jack's hesitance. They couldn't be affectionate in Georgia- it was the south, and they'd talked about keeping it quiet in the media. Jack wasn't ready to come out - yet.

Then Bittle kissed him on the cheek in the parking lot. Quick. Could be platonic if you didn't read into it. And Jack wasn't going to read into it. He was being careful. But did Bitty want him to hold his hand?

Or was that just how he drove? Hand draped over the center console as if he was just waiting for someone to grab it. Jack? Or did he always sit in the driver's seat like he was boneless?

Jack. He prompted himself. Take it slow, wait until you have consent.

He couldn't stop smiling. Bittle, too, couldn't stop smiling. He just had to take a deep breath and tell the nagging voice at the back of his brain to just shut the fuck up. He needed to enjoy these few hours they had together.

"So," Bittle said, "Should I prepare you for the big family party tomorrow? Because you're going to need some prep - this Jam Feud my momma and auntie got going down is tearing all of us apart."

"Your accent is stronger," Jack noticed. "But. I. Ah. Don't mind. It's cute."

Bittle gasped. "Cute my rear end. I spend 24 hours before I leave for Samwell tryin' to get rid of it." he smacked Jack's shoulder. "Besides, you have to forgive a boy for letting his accent slip now and again. You can't really talk, J-Zed, eh?"

A laugh bubbled out of Jack. "Ha ha." A pause. "I've missed this." Another pause. "Us."

"I've missed us, too." Bittle snatched Jack's hand from where it rested on his thigh. "So. The Jam Feud."

 

Suzanne Bittle was a terrifying woman when she was excited. Jack could barely get his shoes off before she was flying at him with a hug, gushing about how he'd experience his first real Fourth of July. Then she was off again, asking about his parents and Providence, and the hockey team.

"It's great," Jack managed. "And my parents, they're great too."

Bittle was snickering, hiding behind his mother, covering a grin with his hand. Suzanne paid him no mind, chattering on and on, dragging Jack on a tour of their house. It was nice, especially when she stopped to show Jack the litany of Bittle's figure skating photos.

"We were so proud of him." She dragged Bitty in for a hug. "Still are."

Now Jack was the one hiding the grin.

"Alright, boys. I've got some party prep to get to, and I'm sure y'all wanna catch up. I made up two beds in the basement if you wanna go and get settled."

"I thought Jack was sleeping in the guest room?"

"That's what I originally thought, but Rick said it'd be best to give you the basement so your chatterin' isn't keeping us up at all hours."

Bittle looked astonished. "Oh. Okay." He grabbed Jack's bags. "I'll just bring this downstairs." He looked pointedly at Jack. "Wanna come with? Mama's gonna be in her pre-party hurricane phase. Best to stay out of the way."

"Sure"

Bittle didn't hesitate long, he just turned around and thundered down the basement stairs. Jack was only a few centimeters behind him.

"I'm sorry my mama talks so much. And that she subjected you to all those photos." he shuddered. "She just loves to show me off."

"Good thing I love to listen, eh?" he set the backpack on the craft table.

Bittle snorted. "Stop being a polite Canadian. You're in an America now."

Jack enunciated the vowels of his apology, his whole body lights up when Bittle's laugh burst out of him.

The laughter died, leaving them in silence. Neither of them had much to say but just looked at each other. Tension thrummed between them. It was a few long seconds before Bittle asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"No?" Jack's words bent at the end. Unsure.

"Oh. It's just the Jack that I knew at Samwell went for what he wanted." Bittle said the words like a well-rehearsed script and was forcing himself not to deviate from it.

"Do you not want this - us - any more?" His words, too, bent at the end, but it was from sorrow instead of confusion.

Jack wanted to kiss him, sweep him off his feet and wipe the tears from his eyes. Instead, he bent forward, resting both palms on Bitty's shoulders. "I want this. I was just being cautious in case you'd changed your mind."

"Jack, I-" And Bittle's mood had turned. He couldn't seem to fight back a smile. "Why in Heaven and Earth would you think I didn't want this? I've stopped myself from jumping you eight times already today."

Jack, awkward as ever, stuttered over how to correctly articulate it. "Anxiety. It had me convinced you didn't want this - that you were just. Humoring me? That I'd get down here and you'd just want to be friends."

"Jack." Bittle was serious. "I want this. I've wanted it every day since Graduation, and I've waited too long to get you alone." Bittle kissed his cheek. "Don't ever let yourself think that I don't want you unless I tell you explicitly. And that's not happening anytime soon."

Jack had a retort to fire, but Bittle's words choked him up. Words weren't possible, but it was easy to lean in and press his lips against Bittle's. They were warm and dry and they tasted just like he'd remembered. He had wanted this moment every day since he left the Haus for the last time, and he was finally here.

He was kissing Eric Bittle.

Jack wanted it to last forever.

It lasted two minutes.

"Boys!" Suzanne called. "Coach brought dinner! Come up and eat!" Suzanne yelled down the stairs. "Don't make me come and get you!"

Jack looked at Bitty, and Bitty looked at Jack. His lips were kissed-swollen, and his face was beet red all the way up to his eyebrows. This was the closest he'd come to seeing (and kissing) a perfect human being, and all he wanted to do was pin him up against a wall and -.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and straightened his collar. "Will she make good on her threat?"

"Yes," Bitty grinned, nudging Jack with his shoulder. "Besides, you wouldn't want to miss the barbeque Coach brought home for the world. Georgia's best."

"Lead the way." Which, in hindsight turned out to be a bad idea. The stairs were steep, and Bittle wasn't too far in front of him. The view of certain anatomic portions was not helping the whole "pinning against the wall" fantasy from earlier.

Thankfully, barbeque was not the most attractive food for a man to eat. And Jack had never seen Eric Bittle consume so much food. He was scarfing down food like Ransom and Holster usually did after a game.

"You know," Jack said when they were washing the dinner dishes. "I'm glad to see you're eating more protein."

He got smacked with a damp washcloth for his joke and was rewarded with Bittle's splutter of laughter. "You can just hush, Mr. Zimmermann. Chirping me for what I eat will only yield revoked pie privileges."

Jack smacked him back with the towel. "You would never!"

He used to only got this way around Shitty. So happy that, for a few glorious moments, his anxieties were on the back burner and he could just be happy. Jack had been so confused when it happened around Bittle for the first time.

He saw it now. It was flirting, the teasing remarks, and the playful swats at each other's arms. He'd been flirting with Bittle. And, standing in front of the sink, drying off the dinner dishes, he didn't want this happy, warm moment to end.

Domesticity. Even if Bittle was pushing all of his weight into Jack's side, protesting that Jack shouldn't even be touching the dishes. "You're a guest, it's against my southern code of honor."

"Well," he said, planting his feet. "It's against my Canadian code of honor to let you do the chores and not help."

A damp towel smacked his bicep again. Harder this time. "Stop being so damn chivalrous. You're in my house now, and I say you'll never do another dish. "

"Ow!" Jack yelped, jumping away from the sink. "Stop it!" He tried to swing back at Bittle but missed. Instead, he lept at Bittle between swings, wrapping his arms around Bittle's torso. Jack managed to pin Bittle's arms to his chest.

"Jack! Let go," Bittle squirmed, trying to slip out of Jack's grip. "Holding penalty!"

Jack laughed, squeezing tighter. "You know, I have yet to find out how ticklish you are.

"Don't you dare," and, in a quick (probably purposeful) move, Bittle ground his hips back against Jack's. He was grinning when he escaped from Jack's loose grip, laughing at the dumbstruck look on his face.

"Boys quit roughhousing in my kitchen!" Suzanne called, crossing to the fridge to get water. "Jesus, It's like Bittle finally has another brother to horse around with."

Bittle blushed up to his hairline and Jack? Well. He had some very non-brotherly things going on in his body, and his brain, in that moment.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bittle." he managed.

"Pish, call me Suzanne. Y'all can just leave the pie pans out, I'll wash them in the morning. You two go out back and have fun. It's a nice night."

"Thanks, Mama." He waggled his eyebrows at Jack. "Shall we?" And slid open the sliding door.

"Bittle, wait, don't you need shoes?" Jack hurried to pull his tennis shoes on and follow. "You'll step on something!"

Bittle laughed, leaning up against the door frame. "City Slicker. I hardly wear shoes in the yard, it's just easier. I've built up calluses."

"Whatever you say."

"Come on," Bittle took his wrist. "Let's go to the swing."

It was an old, handmade, wooden swing, tucked into the tree-line. "It's old, crumbling, but it's been my favorite place to go and think. Away from the house. I think it's where I first decided I was gay."

"Thank you for taking me there," he said, unable to formulate anything else. He was floored that such an easy fact could just tumble from Bittle's lips. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"It wasn't," he said, sitting on the crumbling bench. "I mean, sounded like my University Therapist, but it wasn't stupid. You're never stupid to me, Jack."

Jack sat next to him and gasped as Bittle's warm body curled into his. It was colder than he'd thought, but Bittle was like a personal space heater.

"Family usually watches the fireworks from back here," Bittle said. "But this year just you and I are taking the truck to the Nettle's pasture." he snuggled in closer. "Remind me to grab blankets, it's chillier than I thought."

"Can't be anything less than 18."

"Use Fahrenheit you Canadian oaf.." He pulled out his phone. "It's 70."

"25," Jack corrected, grinning when Bittle raised an eyebrow at him.

"You just convert it in your head?"

"No," Jack was sheepish. "I just have benchmarks memorized for when my chatty American boyfriend asks what the temperature is."

He felt Bittle inhale. "Boyfriend?"

Jack froze.  
Bitty started babbling:  
"Jack, baby, sweetie, It's fine, I don't mind. I want to be your boyfriend, I just didn't know if we were using that word yet. I just expected the proposal to be a little more formal."

"Oh," Jack said and laughed in relief. "More formal than. Give me a few weeks to prepare."

"I'll expect it when I come up in August."

Jack's eyes widened again. "So you're coming up? It's final?"

"What?" Bitty asked, biting back a laugh. "And miss my boyfriend's birthday? Never."

Jack glanced over his shoulder at the house before kissing Bitty's forehead. "I can't wait." He nestled his nose in BItty's hair, inhaling the scent and the warmth.

They didn't speak. They didn't have to, it was just quiet. A long hour just acclimating themselves with each other's presence, curled together on the hard wooden bench.

They stumbled into the house well after midnight. Quietly giggling they tiptoed past the kitchen, stealing pie slices as they snuck downstairs. Sitting criss-cross applesauce on the bed across from each other, eating pie, and just chattering.

They brushed their teeth side by side, Bitty nudging Jack with his elbow. Both of them were grinning like buffoons. Jack washed his face, took his meds, tugged on his pajamas, and fell onto the guest bed. Bitty took another half hour to finish his nightly beauty routine.

"Tired?" Jack asked when Bittle came out of the Bathroom.

"Mmph," Bittle grunted, tugging off his shirt and landing next to Jack. He didn't pay any attention to the air mattress, instead, he curled into Jack's chest. He wished he could have that kind of assurance that everyone wanted him.

A hand grazed the muscles on Jack's chest "Haha.See something you like?"

"Mmm hmm. NHL has been good to you." Bitty's hand didn't stop caressing the rises and falls of toned muscle.

"Scootch over," Jack said, moving under the covers. "You'd better not be a blanket hog."

"Mmm not," Bittle murmured, focused on curling into Jack's side. "Night sweetheart."

Bittle, however, did not find it pertinent to mention his "Leech Syndrome", as Jack named it the next morning. His habit of attaching himself to the nearest warm object was completely new to Jack. He woke up with his arm pulled so close to Bittle's body that it had gone numb in the night.

He had a hard time shaking him off. "Bits," he whispered. "I have to go for a run."

"No," Bittle tightened his grip. "You're staying right here."

"I promised my trainer that I'd keep up regular exercise."

"It's a holiday. Take the day off." Now Bittle had let go of his arm, in favor of rolling on top of Jack. "Besides, it's too hot."

"Bittle," Jack tried tickling his sides, but Bittle remained stoic.

"You can help me with the parade. I signed up to corral the camp float, and as per usual they all insisted on showin’ off their rollerblading skills this year. Will wrangling a bunch of obnoxious Elementary Schoolers on wheels be enough exercise for you?” 

"Ok. Fine." Jack was glad Bittle had come up with a solution, he really hadn't wanted to get up. He was glad to pull Bittle further into him and doze off.

Eventually, they made it out of bed. Not of their own volition, more due to Suzanne banging around baking breakfast and singing patriotic songs at the top of her lungs.

"Happy 4th of July," Bittle murmured into Jack's neck. "Man, Mama knows how to make a racket."

"Either she's making breakfast or she's starting a solo band with baking dishes."

Bittle giggled, warm morning breath puffing against Jacks' neck. "Naw, that's just her way of rousin' us out of bed."

"Your accent is stronger in the morning." Jack pressed a kiss to Bittle's nose. "It's cute."

"Your accent is cute too." And there was a reciprocating kiss on Jack's jawline.

A pot slammed against something upstairs and Suzanne loudly began the Navy Hymn. They decided it was high time they got up and got dressed - lest Suzanne march down the stairs.

Bittle laughed at the shirt Jack tugged on. "American flag shirt, very tasteful."

"I borrowed it from Shitty."

"I can tell, it's a size too small." Bittle winked. Jack blushed. "I like it."

"Haha. Let's go get some breakfast."

They thundered up the stairs, drawn by the smells of the coffee percolating and the bacon sizzling on the stove.

"Mornin' boys!" Suzanne sang from her place by the stove. "Y'all hungry?"

"Starving!" Bitty slid in next to her at the stove. "Smells good."

"Pancakes and bacon at the table, hot of the stove. Coffee is on the table, too."

"Thanks, Mama. Happy fourth."

"You, to boys. I'll join in a minute - Coach is already in there with the paper."

Jack and Bitty took a seat in the dining room, loading up their plates with Suzanne's smorgasbord of food. Fruit, sausage, bacon, two kinds of pancakes, and coffee.

"Looks like the Haus kitchen table after a Kegster, Bits." Jack teased.

"Pancakes and Bacon are the best kinds of hangover food."

Suzanne playfully gasped from the doorway. "I'm going to pretend my little innocent baby didn't just say that."

"Mother, I live in a frat house," Bittle said.

Jack added, in the same second, "Should have seen him at Spring C." And nudged Bitty with an elbow, laughing.

Suzanne rolled her eyes. "I just hope y'all are careful - and take care of my son. I don't want any unplanned Grandbabies, that's all."

Bittle choked on his coffee. "That's not a problem, Mama. Don't worry." Jack could see in his eyes the desperate need to just blurt it out right there, but Coach loudly folded his paper and stood up from the table.

"I agree with your mother, son." He took one last piece of bacon. "Remember, we're leaving for the parade in fifteen minutes."

Bittle didn't eat much after that. He just swallowed the rest of his coffee and ducked out to go and get dressed. Jack longed to reassure him, tell him that everything would be okay. Nobody could assure that.

Jack helped with dishes until Suzanne kicked him out of the kitchen, and ducked upstairs, intent on finding Bittle and seeing what he could do. If anything.

He knocked, and Bittle answered, flushed, shirtless. “Mama! I already told- oh. Jack, come on in.” He grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him through the doorway. 

“Sorry,” But Jack didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. “I just - ah - after the grandkids thing, I just.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “You okay? That shit can be hard.” 

Bittle pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, honey. I’ll be okay. It’s just hard keeping’ a secret from my Mama. I just don’t know how she - or Coach - would react.”  
Jack didn’t really have anything to say. He couldn’t. Instead, he just dragged Bittle into a hug, pressing his lips into the top of his head. “I hope it’ll be okay.” 

“Me too,” Bittle buried his face in Jacks’ chest. 

Coach’s knock startled them out of the moment and they both scrambled apart. Bittle tugged on his shirt and shouting through the door. “Be down in a few!” 

It took them a little longer than a few. Bittle needed to complete his garish Fourth of July outfit, and Jack had to take at least 5 minutes to look at all the posters and trophies crowding for space in Bittle’s room. 

“You were really good at skating,” Jack commented, finding the seventh 1st place trophy. 

“Nearly was Nationals champion in my freshman year,” Bittle said. 

“I just, never realized. I see why you skate so well.” He fingered one of the medals hanging from the shelves. Yet another first place. God, he had been so good in his time. “If you hadn’t done hockey, could you have gone pro?” 

“For sure. Katya always told me I could make it to the Olympics if I tried. But, alas, down here hockey was more socially acceptable. And the only way I could keep my skating skills up when we moved an hour away from my rink and my coach.” 

“Wow.” Jack flushed red. The Olympics. His boyfriend could have ended up on the Olympic skating team. 

“Yeah, but it was a dream I gave up long ago. Don’t feel bad.” He came out of the bathroom, hands still running through his gelled hair. 

“I’m not sad. I’m very impressed.” Jack said, turning around. He was wearing Red White and Blue cutoff denim shorts, a skimpy white tank top, and his hair was slicked back. Jack couldn’t resist crowding him against the bookshelf and pressing kisses to his cheeks. “Very. Very impressed.” 

“Jack, don’t you dare mess up my - mmph-” his yelp was cut off with a hard kiss on his lips. 

So yes. They were very, very late coming down to the car. Coach shot them a glare when they finally climbed into the backseat of the truck. 

By the time they arrived, all the kids were in their rollerskates, the banner was set up, and the moms were handing out candy. 

“This is to be thrown only. If I see anyone of you with a piece of bubblegum in your mouth you’re sitting in the back of the van - hear me?” 

Jack grinned. Days coaching pee wee hockey had him sounding the exact same way - and feeling like a broken record. He smiled at some of the moms as Bitty danced around giving hugs and kisses on the cheek, and cherry fourth of July greetings. 

“Oh!” he said, dragging Jack closer to the van. “This is my friend Jack Zimmermann - we played in college together. He’s going to be helping out cause I figured we could use an extra hand.” 

“Do you skate, Mr. Zimmermann?” one of the moms asked, smiling at him. 

“Yes, of course.” Hadn’t Bittle just mentioned that they played hockey together? 

“Perfect, then Tom can drive the van and you can take these,” she shoved a pair of skates into Jack’s arms. “I hate him skatin’, he says he’s good but he’s one fall away from breaking a bone, I swear.” 

Bittle was laughing at Jack’s confusion as he laced up his own rollerblades. “We don’t have much access to rinks ‘round here, so a lot of the rudimentary lessons I teach are on rollerblades. It’s easy enough to get the hang of, and translates decently well to the ice.” 

“I can’t rollerblade,” Jack protested, trying to hand them back. “I’ll break an ankle.” 

“You’ll do no such thing.” Bittle handed his skates right back. “Lace them up. You already know the basics.” 

Jack glared at Bittle but obeyed and laced the skates on his feet. He stood up, a little wobblier than he was in ice skates. “George will have your head if I sprain something.” 

“Just push off like you would in skates,” Bitty said, spinning in circles on his own skates. “Moving is easy, you just have to take it slow.” 

“I haven’t thought about how to skate in years, Bittle.” Another grumpy glare. He bit the inside of his cheek, held on to the side of the van and pushed off with his foot. 

It was nothing like skating on ice. The pavement was bumpy, the wheels were wobbly, and he felt like he was going to careen over as soon as he let go. But skating was skating, apparently, and slowly his instincts started to take over. 

Besides, he wouldn’t have turned down skating with Bittle for the world. Even if it was in the middle of boiling hot Georgia, wearing rollerblades, and feeling like he was about ten seconds away from ending an NHL career before it really started. 

The grin on Bittle’s face made it all worth it. It was put off more light and more energy than the sun. He was laughing at Jack, chirping about his skating ability. But he was happy, and Jack would do anything to keep that grin on his face. 

“Should we try checking?” Bittle asked, skating towards him. Fast. He wasn’t chickening out, and Jack didn’t know if he was good enough on these roller blades to move out of the way fast enough. At the last second, Bittle slowed, turning his charge into a gentle bump. 

“We’ve gotta get going!” one of the moms yelled from the back of the van. “We’re starting to move!” 

“Okay,” Bittle grabbed a bucket of candy. “Try to keep up, the van won’t be going all that fast. Just make sure nobody fights, or eats too much of their candy or falls behind.” He patted his cheek. “You’re doing great, Jack. Just don’t think about skating.” 

Jack still didn’t do well. Natural at skating, his ass. Ice skates? Sure. He was a natural on those, but these infernal roller blades were impossible. Every bump in the road had him worried, and he was skating slower than most of the younger kids. He should be better than this. He should be enjoying this. Bittle was - he was a miracle on rollerblades, linking arms with kids, giving them piggyback rides. All Jack could do was pick apart a few fights and help up the kids that fell behind. 

He spent most of his time skating to catch up and watching Bittle. He was in his element, skating and laughing and throwing candy and affectionate phrases to the onlookers. He was a ray of red white and blue sunshine and Jack couldn’t look away. This boy, this stupid, charismatic, dorky boy was his. He could kiss and fall in love with that bright ball of happiness and positivity. 

“You know, Jack,” Bittle said as the kids and parents packed up the van. “You weren’t too bad at that. I was expecting the end of your hockey career.” 

“It was close a couple of times,” Jack said, trying to grab at his boyfriend. “You’re just enjoying being able to skate circles around me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I am.” He skated out of the reach of Jack’s nimble fingers. 

“This is why I prefer a hockey rink.” 

Bittle laughed, pausing in his circles to wave his parents over. “What don’t ya prefer over a hockey rink?” 

Jack finally got a hand on Bittle, using it to drag Bittle closer to him and whisper, “You.” 

Bittle’s face flushed. Both of them lost their balance - Jack from the quick movement and Bittle from flustered surprise. They both toppled over, Jack wrapping his arms around Bittle, trying to lessen the impact of the fall. 

They landed on the pavement, Bitty crushed under Jack’s weight and laughed. 

“I’m getting these damn things off my feet,” Jack rolled of Bittle into a sitting position so he could tug at the laces on his roller skates. 

Bittle just lets out another gale of laughter, in a seated position, failing to untie his own skates. When his momma rushed up, pulling them to their (socked) feet, clucking about scrapes and bruises, Bittle was still laughing. At least he was okay. 

Jack himself was sporting a skinned palm but just wiped the embedded dirt and gravel onto his pants. 

“You boys okay?” Coach asked. “Quite the fall you two had.” 

“Not bad enough to get out of the party preparation frenzy,” Bittle muttered, and Coach chuckled. To Jack, he explained. “The few hours before the relatives get her for the cookoff are going to be the scariest of your life.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Suzanne Bittle commanded the men of her household like an army. She was calling the three of them decorations, there, there, and start the grill and hang the banners and for “oh pity’s sake can’t someone accept her realize that the cream pies can’t go out in the heat?” 

Bittle was used to it. Jack was not. His mother always hired professional party planning and preparation. He had been assigned to decorations duty until Bittle saw the horrors he had committed on the streamers. 

“Go see if Coach needs help with the grill. You are useless with a roll of crepe paper,” and playfully shoved him towards the back door. 

He was all too glad to escape the house. He’d never ever say it, but Bittle had inherited some of his mother’s crazy. Coach was quiet, willing to just make idle talk about golf while prepping the food tables. When the uncles arrived and the talk turned to American Football, he slipped back inside to find Bittle. 

Bittle laughed when he heard why Jack had retreated. “You’re such a Canadian.” 

“Sorry for not liking American Football.” 

“Down here it’s just football, sugar. And don’t let coach here you say that.” he slid one of the pies across the counter. “Now make yourself useful and slice that while I prep the veggie trays.” 

They worked in harmony, Bittle humming idly as they prepped the dessert table. Once in a while, Jack would catch Bittle looking at him, only to duck his head away in embarrassment. The third time Jack caught him he asked. “What’s up? Is there pie filling on my face?” 

“No, no.” he blushed. “I just like this. Being domestic.” 

Jack hopped checked him, both of them wearing matching dorky grins. “Me too.” And they shifted closer, their sides pressed together. It felt forbidden - as if any moment a family member would catch them and start making accusations. But only Suzanne came in and out, and she was too busy to even notice they were there. 

They were soon freed from their duties and sent outside to entertain the cousins. Like every year, according to Bittle, the cousins started a game of catch. Bittle looked at Jack, his whole face lighting up with amusement as they were dragged into a game of “American” Football. 

When the tackling started, Bittle dragged Jack onto the deck to mingle with the older relatives, mainly Moomaw, who planted a kiss on Jack’s cheek and welcomed him into the family. Then slid both of them a beer with a wink. 

The sun slipped behind the horizon, and just as the air started to get chilly, Bitty plopped a pile of blankets on Jack’s lap. “Carry those to the truck? Mamma gave us the go-ahead to leave for fireworks.” 

They drove the truck to an empty pasture and spread the blankets in the back of the truck. Bitty curled into Jack’s chest, burrowing into his warmth. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing until the first explosions flung colors against the night sky.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Jack murmured, too in awe of Bittle’s face in the dim light to feel embarrassed. He wanted to live in the moment forever. They were warm, alone, and safe. Jack couldn’t recall being any happier with any other human being. 

It ended. The show, the moment. All they had left was to press desperate, lingering kisses on each other’s lips - living in the solitude of the empty field. They had to fold up the blankets, drive back to the house. 

While Bittle said goodbye to the relatives, Jack slipped downstairs, brushing his teeth, and getting ready for bed. He was half asleep by the time Bittle joined him, startling only a little when the warmth of his chest met his. 

The next thing he knew, sunlight was filtering into the room and the clock read somewhere around 8. He really didn’t want to rouse Bittle, who would sleep till double digits if he could. He needed to slide out of bed and go for a run. 

There was a mild groan when Jack slid out from underneath Bittle. He didn’t wake up much, only enough to drag Jack’s pillow closer to him and fall back asleep. Jack kissed him on the forehead before he slipped up the stairs. 

 

Suzanne was just getting ready to go to work. She smiled at him, poured a cup of coffee, all while chattering about how Coach, too, went for a run. “He goes much earlier, around 6. Guess you’re still a college student at heart.” 

He gave her a yes ma'am, and a hug. He wouldn’t be seeing her again before Bittle had to drive him to the airport. “Thank you for having me, it was a wonderful time.” 

“Don’t mention it!” she kissed his cheek before slipping out the door. “Come back next year!” 

Jack followed her out the door, feet already jonesing to hit the pavement. It was damn hot here, even if the sun wasn’t in the sky. He understood why Coach went running so early - it wasn’t even 8:30 and the mercury were already climbing high. It was a short, sweaty 2 block loop before he found himself back in the Bittle’s driveway. 

He had stripped off his shirt halfway through and slung it over his shoulder as he went for a cold bottle of water. He’d forgotten to bring one with, and he chugged the entire bottle before realizing that he wasn’t alone in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Bittle said, sounding choked. 

“Morning. You were right about how hot it gets.” 

“Jack-” Bittle took a deep breath. “Dear lord, you’re sweating like a sinner in Church.” 

“Sorry,” Jack headed for the stairs. “I’ll just go shower, then we can make breakfast?” 

“No!” Bittle’s voice was sharp, stopping Jack in his tracks. “It’s not a problem. Well. Not your problem.” 

“What?” Jack asked, looking weirdly at Bittle. He’d been acting strange since he came back in from his run. Came back in shirtless and sweaty from his run, and things clicked. “Oh.” 

“Yes, oh,” Bittle said, building up to a rant. “You come in all shirtless and sweaty, chug a water bottle, which I guess isn’t that sexy, but in those shorts.” Bittle smacked himself in the forehead. “Maybe I need the cold shower now.” 

Bittle thought he was sexy. The dots connected even further, and he went all hot with embarrassment. Well. That and something else. 

“Maybe,” Jack said, half chirping - half serious. “We could take that cold shower together?” 

They didn’t make it close to a bathroom. Instead, they ended up on the guest bed, kissing like they’d never kissed before. Before it had been gentle, and longing. Now it was desperate, all tongue and teeth. Bittle’s hands wrapped around the back of Jack’s head, running through the sweat pooled at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I?” Jack plucked at the hem of Bittle’s shirt. 

“Oh, baby, if you don’t I will,” Bitty breathed. Both their hands tangled together, pulling off Bittle’s shirt. Bittle flopped back onto the bed, boneless, and the moment paused. 

Both of them just stopped to look. They were smiling, enjoying, free to just adore the other person. It was a moment that could last forever, Bittle’s smile and his body radiating pure enjoyment into Jack. He didn’t know how, but this was the happiest moment he’d ever experienced. 

The moment snapped apart when Bittle ground his hips up into Jack’s. Both of them moaned, and Jack fell onto the bed - catching himself on his forearms. He smashed his lips against Bittle’s, in awe at how Bittle’s hands clutched desperately at his forearms. 

This was a first for them, getting this far. Jack could feel Bittle against his leg, and he himself was pressing hard against the restraints of his underwear. He made the snap decision, moving his hands to play with the waistline of Bittle’s shorts. 

“Jack,” Bittle breathed. “Yes.” 

Jack’s fingers moved further into Bittle’s waistband. For once in his life, he was absolutely certain that what he was doing was appreciated. There were no reservations, just a split second link between wanting and doing. No room for doubt. 

Their shorts landed across the room, and Jack leaned back to admire Bittle. All of him, laid out before his eyes, his skin brown against the white sheets. 

“Jack,” Bittle found his voice. “This is - I’ve never…” 

“I know. It’s okay.” Jack leaned forward again, and Bittle moaned when Jack’s erection brushed up against his. 

Both of them moaned when Jack wrapped a spit-slick hand around Bittle. A whimper broke out when his hand moved, slowly. Bittle arched back on the bed, mouth parted in a silent moan, hips thrusting into the circle of Jack’s hand. 

Time seemed to both stand still and move at the speed of light. It was hours and, yet, mere seconds before Bittle came all over his chest and collapsed onto the mattress. Jack looked down at him, grinning. 

“How was that?” 

Bittle just looked at him, pupils were blown wide. And then he laughed. “Do you want a play by play breakdown or what?” 

“No,” Jack said, trying to frown and failing. “Maybe.” 

“Oh, honey,” Bitty surged up to meet Jack in the middle of the bed, planting kisses all over his face. “It was so good. Like. Seriously. It was the best feeling of my entire life, and we haven’t even started in on all the things we could do-” 

“Oh yeah?” Jack cut off his ramble. “Like what?” 

“Why don’t I show you in the shower, so we can deal with this little problem.” Bitty reached down and fondled Jack through his boxers. 

Jack was too speechless. He didn’t really know what he had got himself into in May, and right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. Bittle was too busy grabbing his discarded shorts, wiping his chest off, and dragging Jack into the shower. 

His heart nearly stopped when Bittle backed him against the shower wall. He looked up into Jack’s eyes, smiling sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted to try this.” And wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock. 

He didn’t last very long after that. The warm wet heat around his dick, the cool of the shower wall, and the fact that his hand was loosely planted in Eric Bittle’s hair had him gasping out a warning all too quickly. 

“Was that any good?” Bittle asked, leaning back on his heels, looking up at Jack. 

“Do you want a play by play basis?” Jack asked, coming back around to his senses enough to chirp Bittle. 

“Yes. Tell me what I did right, and what I did wrong?” 

Jack blushed. “Did you see how fast that ended? Trust me, you did nothing wrong.” 

Bittle blushed. “Oh. Okay, it’s just I’ve only ever, you know, done it with myself and-” 

“It was amazing. “ 

“Thank goodness.” He grabbed Jack’s travel shampoo off the wall. “Not to change the mood too quick, or anythin’ but I really think we oughta get clean. Mind if I use this?” 

“Not at all.” 

They’d showered in the vicinity of each other before. Living and playing together left them familiar with each other’s bodies. Yet, getting used to having the other person in their shower and in their bed was new. It lead to something beyond familiarity. 

It led to intimacy. 

The best kind, where Jack was laughing, and using the shampoo like hair gel to get Bittle’s hair into a mohawk. Bittle, in retaliation, was taking the washcloth and rubbing Jack’s body soap only into his abs. 

They tumbled into bed after that, for no other reason than to simply enjoy one another. It was only a few hours before Jack had to head back to the airport and neither of them was ready for it. 

“Just, lay here with me,” Bittle said, pulling Jack on top of him. “Let me just remember what this feels like.” 

Jack was more than happy to oblige, falling on top of Bittle. He, too, spent long moments trying to memorize every feeling of this moment. The warmth of another human being, the soft puffs of air from Bittle’s breath. 

He fell asleep. 

He woke up to Bittle gently shaking him, his laugh stuttering air against his chest. “Jack, we have to leave for the airport in an hour. Don’t you need to pack?” 

“I don’t wanna get up,” Jack groaned but rolled off of Bittle. 

“That’s a first,” Bittle said and rolled over so they were looking each other in the eye. “Only a few weeks until I’ll be there in August. And we’ll still skype every day?” 

“Anytime.” 

“Okay. We can do this, right?” 

“Bittle. I have to do this. After these few days, and that kiss in May, I might die if I’m not able to dream about kissing you every day.” 

Bittle’s cheeks blushed red. “You flatter me, Mr. Zimmermann. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to tell you that we still need to get our asses moving.” 

They didn’t get their asses moving. They laid in that bed for another half an hour, just chit-chatting and making plans for August and for the school year. It led to a time crunch, and the two of them leaving the driveway 15 minutes after originally planned. 

Jack didn’t mind. If he missed his flight, he got to stay here with Bittle, his hand radiating heat in the chilling car. It would be too hard to say goodbye - especially with their last kiss exchanged in the basement. 

All he got at the airport was a hug before Jack was sent into security. It was a tight hug, but still fraternal. But it was warm, and it left Jack buzzing all the way to the plane. The last words he said before slipping into the crowds were: 

“See you in August.” 

And Bittle’s. “See you on Skype. As soon as you get back. Promise?” 

Jack’s final words were, “Promise.” As if he hadn’t already given everything - mind, body, and soul to Eric Bittle.


	3. Providence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens that week(ish) Bitty visits Jack in Providence. 
> 
> It ran out of control, is thirteen thousand words and the longest thing I've ever written. You're welcome (?) or I'm sorry. Depends on how much you have to get done today, really. 
> 
> Enjoy! Feedback (comments!) are always really appreciated. I read every single one and smile like a buffoon.

Eric Bittle brought his sunshine with him all the way from Georgia. Bittle had been in his apartment for less than an hour and still, ti was palpable. Jack, entering his apartment after practice, felt it. It washed over him like a wave. It was the smell of baked goods in the air and the busy humming coming from the kitchen that drained the tension drained out of his shoulders.

For the first time, his apartment felt like home.

"Jack? Honey?" Bitty called, "That you?" And god. Hearing that voice - that accent - in person after so many weeks lifted his spirits.

"Yeah, it's me." He kicked off his shoes and rounded the corner. Bittle was in the kitchen, covered with flour and damn near tackling Jack with the force of his hug. Jack let out a half playful, "Oof," when their chests collided.

"Flatterer," Bitty said, kissing his cheek. "No way I actually hurt you - big tall strong hockey player that you are."

"You're not too shabby yourself, Bits." The nickname felt so right in his mouth. "Sorry I couldn't pick you up at the airport."

"It wasn't a problem, Jack." Bitty's kiss lands on his lips this time. "Gave me time to cook you up something special."

"Oh really now? What is it?"

"You'll have to guess."

"Well. I'm going to have to do some research then, aren't I?" And before Bitty - or Jack - could ask what the hell he was thinking he dove in for a kiss. And God, it was just like he remembered. Warm. The taste of Bittle - and the baked goods he'd been sampling - flooding his mouth. It was addictive and he'd been craving a fix for the last 6 weeks.

"Mmm." Jack pulled back, pretending to think. "Maple Apple Pie."

Bitty laughed. "How could you have guessed that from a kiss?"

"I didn't. Your recipe was open on your phone behind you."

Bitty laughed again. "I missed you. My big goofy dork."

Jack kissed him again, just letting himself live in the feeling. It had been so long since he let himself just feel. He could just stand here, in this bright kitchen and let the love in his chest overwhelm him.

"Mmm, Jack." Bitty murmured as the kiss devolved. "If you want this to go anywhere we're going to have a burnt pie."

"Worth it," Jack said, backing him against the counter. He wanted to do things - something. Everything. All the fantasies he'd lived in over the last few weeks. And if the casualty was pie?

So be it.

"Jack," Bitty twisted his head away, looking at the timer on the stove. He moaned when Jack's lips moved to press kisses along his jawbone and down his exposed neck. "We've got 20 minutes. Maximum."

"Works for me." Jack bent down, grabbed Bittle around the waist, and threw him over his shoulder. He laughed at the squawk of protest and gasped when two (soft) hands suddenly grabbed the top of his ass for support.

Jack dropped Bittle on his unmade bed. "God," he said, practically drooling over Bitty. "I missed you."

"Mmm, 20 minutes Jack. No time for sentimentality."

Jack, laughing, dropped onto the mattress, using his forearms to hover above Bitty's face - their lips mere inches apart. "Fine," he whispered. "Then I guess we need to get right to it - can I blow you?"

He didn't really know where this suave Jack was coming from. The man who could ask for what he wanted with so little hesitation. But his dick was straining in his briefs and Bittle was finally here and his brain just jumped into auto-pilot.

He didn't mind.

"Oh god," Bitty groaned. "Lose your shirt and you can do damn near anything."

Jack rolled off of Bitty and sat up to tug his shirt over his head. "Your turn."

Bittle sat up, peeling off his flour-stained shirt and flopped back into the mattress. "You have a very nice bed, Mr. Zimmermann."

"Mmm." He kissed Bitty's jawbone. "I bought it to be easy on the knees." And started kissing down Bitty's neck, down his torso, chuckling slightly at the noises Bitty made when Jack sucked on one of his nipples.

Finally, he got to the hem of Bitty's shorts, kissing them until looking up. A question was in his eyes, to which Bitty frantically nodded. He chuckled again, and peeled the tiny shorts and threw them aside.

Bitty hadn't been wearing anything underneath him.

Jack, looking up at Bitty for final consent, waited. When Bitty nodded again he gently slid the head into his mouth, tongue running around the slit. Bitty moaned, long and loud, his hands briefly coming down to tangle in Jack's hair.

He second-guessed himself, pulling them back to wrap them in the sheets. Jack made brief eye contact with Bitty before opening his throat and taking him as far down as he could go. It had been a long time, but it was all just muscle memory. Just his mouth, Bitty's moans, and his dedication to getting him off as fast as possible.

The clock was winding down fast.

Bitty's hands ended up in his hair again, and before he could pull them away Jack reached a hand up to hold them there, squeeze tighter so he could feel the strain of his hair against his scalp.

Instinctively, his throat opened a little bit further, and he rubbed his hips against the mattress - moaning around Bitty to the feel of tight hands in his hair and the rough texture of his briefs against his dick.

It didn't take long. One more quick motion, a dirty thing with his tongue (that Jack was surprised to remember) and Bitty was coming. His back arched up and his hands tightened in his hair. Jack rutted against the mattress one final time - and with the hands in his hair and the six weeks and the tight feeling in his scalp. It didn't take much.

Jack pulled off with a wet pop, peeling off the condom to throw in the garbage. He looked up at Bittle, grinning. "How was that?"

Bitty just moaned again.

From the kitchen, there was the distinct sound of a timer going off, and Bitty scrambled to stand up. "Shit, the pie. I'll go get it out of the oven and let it cool. Then. Well. I can return the favor."

Jack, still laying boneless on the bed, smiled at him. "Not a problem Bitty."

"Nonsense. That was." He sighed. "Damn." And was halfway out the bedroom door before he realized. "Wait. Did you - already? With the -"

Jack blushed. "It's been a while for me too. The mattress helped."

"Fuck," Bitty leaned against the doorframe. "Okay. I'm still going to go take the pie out - but I'll be back."

Jack watched Bitty walk into the kitchen and out of sight before rolling out of bed. He winced a little when he stood up - apparently dry humping the mattress was not as wonderful an idea as it had felt earlier. He threw his pants in the wash, pulling on last night's sweats.

"Pie turned out perfectly," Bitty said, turning around when he heard Jack's footsteps. "Well, the edges were a little burnt, but that is a small price to pay for one of the best orgasms of my life."

Jack's laugh spluttered out of him. "I'll take that as a compliment, then."

"You should." Bitty pressed a peck into his lips. "You do taste like latex, though."

"Then I guess I'll just have to eat some pie." He tried to maneuver around Bitty into the kitchen, but Bitty stood firmly in his way.

"It's not going to be cool for at least 10 minutes. I don't want you to scald your mouth." He gave Jack a saucy wink. "Especially now that I've learned it's full potential."

Jack laughed again. "I'll go brush my teeth. The remote is on the coffee table if you want to find something on Netflix to watch. Unless you want to go out and do something?"

"A night in sounds great." Bitty was already on his way to the couch. "We can eat pie for dinner."

"We are not eating pie for dinner!" Jack called, almost to his bedroom. He hurried through brushing his teeth, only taking a second to take a deep breath and center himself. Bitty was here - in his living room. He needed to take a minute, slow down, and appreciate it.

"I was thinking we could just order Chinese. There is a good place Tater recommended that delivers."

"Chinese sounds amazing." Bitty picked a baking show, and snuggled into Jack's lap, his head resting just under Jack's chin. "So are you getting along with your new team?"

"Ah, I’m trying. It’s just hard with a whole team of new people. But I’ve gotten to know the rookies - and Tater - a little. ."

"That is so good to hear, Jack." He earned a kiss to the collarbone. "I'm so proud of you."

Jack was glad Bittle couldn’t see his blush. He never felt that anyone had meant praise as much as Bittle did. When Bittle said he was proud or that Jack looked handsome he felt like a changed man. For a few brief seconds, Jack could see his worth in the world. It settled like a warm weight in his chest.

Bitty had since been preoccupied with the baking show on the television. They churned through two episodes and Jack barely paid attention to what was on the television screen. He was way too preoccupied with how animated Bittle got - violently gesticulating as he yelled at the bakers on the screen.

"You watch baking shows like Ransom watches ESPN, Bits," Jack said, leaning on the island to watch him slice the cool pie.

"Everyone has their passions, Mr. Zimmermann. I distinctly remember someone yelling at the history channel on multiple occasions."

Jack got defensive. "Ancient Aliens is barely history. It's inaccurate and wildly underestimates the brilliance of early African and South American societies."

Bitty laughed. "Like I said - passions. Besides, I thought it was cute. Jack Zimmermann, getting all hot and bothered over something that wasn't hockey." He slid a plate of pie across the counter. "Anyway. Back to the couch? You can pick the show this time."

Jack and Bitty settled back into the couch, plates of pie on their laps. Jack laughed at Bitty's expression when he moaned at the first mouthful of pie. Sheepishly, with a mouth full of crust, he managed, "It's so good, Bits."

"I could tell." Bitty had yet to take a bite of his own pie - just cooly observing Jack as he ate - and later choked on his slice of pie.

The question came so coolly, so out of nowhere, that Jack's breath caught in his throat when Bittle got up the nerve to ask it.

"So. Earlier. That whole hair pulling thing. You liked that?"

Jack's throat momentarily stopped working - leaving his next breath and his bite of pie stuck in his throat. He coughed loudly to clear it. "Yeah, uh. I did."

"So you'd want me to do it again?"

Jack bit the inside of his lip, just stopping him from aspirating more of his pie. The sheer memory of earlier - Bitty's dick down his throat, tight hands in his hair, the rough drag of the mattress against his dick. He bit down on his lip harder.

"Yeah. I think so." Bittle was giving him a strange look. His anxiety kicked in. "Unless, uh, you didn't like it because it's not really that important to me. Just something..."

Bitty set his pie plate on the table and grabbed Jack's from his hands. He finally understood the meaning behind the look. Not frustration or disgust but lust. Blown pupils and teeth biting hard into his lower lip. Jack could have melted on the spot.

"It's just. Well. Earlier I didn't get a chance to return the favor."

Their lips were millimeters apart, and Jack could feel Bittle's hot breath on his, the smell of warm cinnamon circulating between them. A second before Jack surged up to kiss him Bittle slid his way down Jack's body, hovering at the waistband of his sweats.

And then, just as Bittle's fingers wrapped around his waistband there was a knock at the door.

"Delivery!"

"We should have just eaten pie for dinner," Jack groaned as Bitty rolled off of him.

"This was your idea." He grabbed the check off the kitchen counter. "Set the table?"

Jack sighed, sat up, adjusted himself in his sweats and headed into the kitchen. He smiled as he pulled forks out of the drawer and listened to Bittle animatedly chat with the delivery boy. He came back only a few moments later, laden with plastic bags.

"We bought a lot of food."

"We eat a lot of food," Jack said. "Chopsticks or fork?" He held both up.

"Do I look like the kind of person who could use chopsticks? The closest I have to authentic Chinese in Madison is a Panda Express."

Jack winced, sitting down at the table, pulling the food containers closer. "That's not Chinese. That's hangover food."

"Or munchies. I can't count on one hand the number of times Shitty and Lardo made me drive them to get awful fast food."

"They never asked me," Jack said, sliding his chopsticks out of their sleeve. "Mostly because I'd probably lecture them about the health value of what they were eating."

"Or maybe because you're a horrible driver," Bitty muttered into the container of rice. "Anyway, How was practice? How are you settling into the dynamic?"

Jack froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Bitty squeaked. Apparently, the quick subject change hadn't erased what he'd said. Jack was still glaring at him. "It's just. You're so angry. And swervy. You treat traffic like it's the matrix."

Jack's eyes went wide. "What? I have never heard this?"

"We made a pact never to tell you," Bitty muttered again. "It's fine though, honey. I don't mind, it can just be a little much sometimes is all. Especially when you’re high.” 

Jack's face was a deep frown. "I wish someone had told me."

"I just did. Don't be angry." Bitty leaned halfway across the table, standing so he could reach. "Now lean in so I can kiss that frown away."

Jack obliged, fighting back a dopey grin. It was hard to be mad at Bittle for very long. That and his shitty driving didn't really surprise him. He'd grown up learning to drive in and around Montreal proper. It wasn't the best place to cultivate a calm, relaxed driver.

"There's the smile I love," Bitty said. "Now pass the Cashew Chicken."

The rest of dinner was passed with Bittle chatting animatedly and nagging Jack to help him learn how to use chopsticks. He was awful, of course, but Jack couldn't stop laughing as he watched Bitty drop every bite of food that even came close to his mouth.

"Stop laughing Jack!" Bitty snapped in mock anger as another piece of broccoli fell onto his lap. "How do you even do this?"

"It's easy." Jack leaned across the table to steal a bit of rice and shovel it into his mouth. "You're just not trying hard enough."

Bitty attempted to spear a chunk of chicken and throw it at Jack. It only made it halfway across the table. "Goddamnit."

"Just give up and use a fork."

"Or I could just give up in general. I'm pretty much done. You?"

"Yeah. I'll do the dishes, Bits. You wanna watch another movie?" Jack picked up both of their plates and dumped them in the sink.

"Nah. By the time we choose one it'll be too late to watch it." Bitty picked up the food cartons, sticking the full containers in the fridge. "I might just go shower and get ready for bed."

"We can start in on those French flashcards?" Jack said, grinning. "You mentioned you needed help."

Bitty glared at him. "I didn't mention that I needed help. You assumed I needed help."

"I heard your attempts last semester. You need a miracle. But you only have me, sorry."

"You are a miracle, Jack. Who knew someone could be that smart and that pretty."

"Go shower," Jack said, pushing Bitty towards the bedroom. "I'll be waiting in bed. With a big ol' pile of flashcards."

"Mmmph. The dream."

And the stupid thing was, this was the dream. Jack, laying in bed, listening to Bittle sing some pop song at the top of his lungs. Jack was warm, and he was so intensely happy it radiated through every part of him.

He wasn't surprised when Bittle climbing into bed jostled him out of a light doze.

"Study?" he murmured. "I'm awake."

"No, you're not. Just go back to sleep, you've had a long day." Bittle leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. And, Jack could have sworn - even as he was drifting off - there was a murmured, "I love you" and a squeak of surprise.

Jack woke up to the ringing of his 6 am alarm and - for the first time - he didn't want to get up to go. He knew he had to, he could feel the pent-up energy already ringing through his muscles. But, Bittle was tucked into his side, eyes cracking open and morning breath puffing against his neck.

"Shut that thing off," he groaned. "Seriously? 6 am?"

"Sorry. It's kind of time for my morning run."

"It's your birthday. Sleep in for once, Jack you totally deserve it."

"It's routine. And I promised my trainer that I'd work out every day-" But still, Jack was making no effort to actually get out of bed.

"How about we sleep in for another hour, then I get up and go running with you."

Jack was already sinking back into his pillows. "That works. I guess. But we're going at 7 - no matter what."

"Sure, fine. Wake me up then." Bitty was already drifting back off, and Jack - despite the tightness in his muscles - was following close behind.

He woke up at 8:13, sitting bolt upright. Shit. He'd forgotten to set an alarm for 7 and now another hour of the day had been wasted. On a normal day, he'd be dressed and showered and on his way to the rink.

But it wasn't a normal day. It was his birthday and Bitty was here. A warm hand crept up his spine, scratching lightly. "Jack? Honey? Are you okay?"

He fought to find the words to speak. "Yeah. We just slept in for another hour. It's throwing off my routine, is all."

"Oh." Bitty sat up next to him, pulling Jack's hands into his lap and tracing circles on the palm. "Well I'm sorry about your routine, but some days you just gotta say fuck it, hun. Your body obviously needed the sleep."

"Yeah, you're right. I just need to go for that run still - I can make it quick if you just wanna stay here?"

"I need the run. I'll come with." Bitty was already following Jack out of bed, picking up last night's discarded gym shorts. "All of my workout shirts are in my Samwell boxes. Can I borrow a junk shirt of yours? Preferably one that has shrunk?"

Jack laughed, grabbing an old shirt from the back of his drawer. "Here. This one has shrunk too much for me to wear comfortably.”

It did something to Jack, seeing Bitty in his clothes. In and an old shirt with his last name and old number across the back. He always forgot how tiny Bitty was, but seeing him swimming in that shirt was as hilarious as it was arousing.

"Jesus," Bitty said, knotting the shirt around his waist. "I always forget you're an actual giant."

Jack couldn't stop the happy, amused grin from spreading across his face. "I'm normal sized, Bits. You're just tiny."

"I'm 5'6" and a half, Mr. Zimmermann. And you're so far from average, and that was before pro hockey built you into a literal tank."

"You know," Jack said, grabbing his running shoes from the back of his closet. "I ripped one of my old button ups the other day. Just popped a button clean off when I bent over to tie my shoes."

Bitty gawked at him, midway through tying his own shoe. "I don't know whether to laugh or tackle you onto the mattress."

"How about we go for a run." Jack grabbed his keys off the nightstand. "Then we can practice some mattress wrestling."

"Ha. Cause that's what I was thinking of." Bitty followed Jack out of the apartment. "So. Where are we running today, Zimmermann?"

"My usual lap around the park? Or we can run along the river, but that's usually more crowded."

"The park sounds perfect. Which way?"

"Left for a block. Then. Well. You can't really miss it." Jack pointed down the street. "Why?"

"Oh. Just because I need to go the right way in order to kick your ass."

"Huh?"

"Race you!" Bitty called, already taking off down the street.

Jack was one to only be left in the dust for a few seconds before taking off after Bittle. He had always been one for long distance running, not sprints, but healthy competition always made him faster.

Still, even with all his rookie training, there was no way he'd even come close to catching Bittle. The man was a speed demon - both on the ice and off. By the time Jack caught up, Bittle was waiting for him on a park bench.

"No fair," he panted. "You got a head start."

"You have longer legs, " Bittle countered. "Pass me the water?"

Jack handed him the water bottle. "Still up for my 2 miles through the park?"

"I'll always be able to catch up with you, old man."

"Challenge accepted"  
\----------  
"That was," Jack said panting as they found a bench. "The best run of my life." He pulled up his fitness tracking app on his phone. "And one of the fastest miles I've ever run."

"Competition never hurt anyone," he said, laughing. "And you sure went hard trying to keep me on my toes."

"You're not even that sweaty," Jack said, shaking his head in astonishment. "And you're barely even out of breath, Bits. How?"

"I've been running all summer in 98% humidity, Jack. I don't really sweat when it's only 70 degrees and 60% humidity."

Jack tried to push him off the bench. "That's unfair. Are you even tired?"

"My legs are burning. You might just have to carry me back to the apartment."

"At this point, I don't think I can even carry myself."

Bitty laughed, "Same. Let's just get it over with."

Jack sighed, stood up and pulled Bitty off the bench. "If you insist."

 

‘\They managed. Both of them collapsed against the railings in the elevator as they ascended to Jack's floor.

"We need a shower," Bitty said, tossing his shoes in the direction of the mat.

"We?" Jack asked.

Bitty gave him a lewd look. "I mean. It would save hot water." He grinned. "The last one in is a rotten egg." And took off, tossing his shirt behind him at Jack.

"How do you still have energy?" Jack asked, incredulous. He didn't mind being the proverbial 'rotten egg'. He took his time, putting their clothes in the laundry hamper and grabbing fresh towels out of the cabinet.

"Your shower is magical, Jack."

"It's why I bought the apartment," he said, sliding in behind Bittle.

"Really?" Bitty turned around, looking up at Jack and grinning. "I don't blame you."

"Part of the reason. Most of it was that kitchen - even before I kissed you I wanted you in my apartment."

Bitty blushed. "Well. Your brain got around to kissing me. And now I'm in said apartment's magical shower. On your birthday no less. What are we to do?" his grin was sly by the time he finished.

Before Jack could even think of a coherent response Bittle was on his knees. "Happy Birthday," Bittle whispered as he pressed a kiss to Jack's thigh. "I've been thinking about this since last night." And took Jack into his mouth.

Jack's brain stopped functioning. All he could process was the cool shower wall, the nails digging into his palms and the tight wet heat. He groaned, head falling against the wall. This was going to be embarrassingly short.

He tapped Bittle on the head when he felt the pressure building, practically dragging him up to his mouth and kissing him. It was hard, tongue delving into backing him against the wall. One good rut against his thigh and he came.

A moan slid out between their lips when he felt Bitty's hand slide between them, getting himself off as Jack kissed him within an inch of his life against the icy shower wall.

It was years before Jack pulled away, looking at Bitty's puffy lips and hair plastered to his forehead.

"Well," he panted. "If we weren't dirty before we sure are now."

Between the makeout sessions under the hot water, Bittle's offer to wash Jack's back (focused mostly on groping his butt and laughing the entire time), they managed to get clean and get out before the hot water ran out.

"That was the best shower of my entire life," Bitty groaned, working his loose muscles into a tight t-shirt.

"Today was one of best days of my entire life," Jack said. "The best birthday by far."

"And it's only just started. I already gave you one present," a sly wink. "Should we start on your other one?"

"Depends what it is? I just got into these shorts."

"Baking, Mr. Zimmermann. Get your head out of the gutter, lord." Bitty crossed over to his backpack, pulling out a ring of index cards. "I was thinking the cassoulet dough needs to sit for a little bit.” 

"Count me in." Jack pulled on a t-shirt and trailed Bitty into the kitchen. "What do you need me to find?"

Bitty showed him out to start the crust with cold water and slowly stir it until there was a moist ball of dough in the bottom of his bowl. He earned a kiss on the cheek for his ‘perfect’ job with the crust. 

“I couldn’t have done better myself.” 

“That’s a lie.” 

"Haha. I'll stick the pie crust in the fridge and then we have a few hours." Bittle's stomach growled. "Maybe we can eat brunch? All I've eaten was yogurt and a protein bar this morning."

"Here? Or I found this really good diner around the corner that I think you'd dig."

"Depends," Bitty said, already heading for the entryway. "Do they have good coffee?"

The dinner was a tiny hole in the wall only a block north, a short walk for their tired legs. Jack usually went there for breakfast a few times and had been itching to tell Bitty about it. 

"Known for really good breakfast sandwiches," Bitty read on a Yelp review as they walked. He gasped "And pie? Jack are you cheating on me?!"

"There pie is good," Jack said, and before Bitty could admonish him he clarified, "But not as good as yours. A shallow substitute when I was missing you this summer."

Bitty grinned. "You missed me this summer?"

"Like a fish misses the water," Jack said. "I'd grown far too used to living across the hall from you and your loud music."

Bitty bumped into his shoulder. "How dare you insult my music tastes, Jack Zimmermann. You listen to Dad Rock and Country."

"Dad Rock? Try the Classics, Bittle," he held the door of the diner open. "And country is a perfectly acceptable music genre."

"I'm from the south, Jack. I overdosed on Country this summer." He turned his beaming smile on the waitress. "Table for two?"

"Okay. Got a friend with you today, Jack?"

"Yes, I do Bertha. This is my old teammate Eric Bittle."

"It's awfully nice to meet you. I hear y'all got good pie? I'm a baker myself and always like to taste the competition."

Bertha laughed, taking them to a secluded booth. "Pie is on the fourth page." She handed them a menu. "Can I get you anything to drink while you're looking?"

"Coffee." Jack and Bittle said at the same time, laughing at their synchronicity.

"For him, I'll just stick to water," Jack clarified. "Thank you."

"Coffee and water. Got it. See you in a few."

"So," Bittle said. "Did you really miss me this summer? Or was it just a chirping excuse."

"I really did miss you. Our Skype calls were the best part of my day. Every time I got a text from you I grinned like an idiot. The team thinks I have a girlfriend with all my smiling and scheduled phone calls."

"Oh," Bitty said, distracting himself with his menu. "Right."

Jack wanted to reach out, take Bitty's hand but the diner was crowded with a breakfast rush and he felt like there were millions of eyeballs on him. He couldn't comfort his boyfriend in public because nobody could even know he had a boyfriend. Jack tried his best to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Bits. God, I want to scream about you to the whole entire world, trust me. But these things take time and this industry isn't the most open about this-" he paused as the waitress brought their drinks.

"Decide on what to eat?"

"Not yet." his words came across terse. "Can we have another minute?"

"Sure!" Bertha didn't seem to notice. "Take your time Jack, you know you're one of my favorites.”

"This isn't the place," Bitty said. "It's okay we can talk about it at home."

"Home?" the edge of Jack's mouth curved up.

"Yeah," Bitty blushed. "Your apartment - and the Haus - are feeling more like home than where I was born n' raised. It's not really home if you can't be yourself there."

Jack knew he was grinning like an idiot. He really didn't care, and he didn't even try to stop his foot from reaching across the table and rubbing affectionately on Bitty's shin.

"Now. Enough with the heavy stuff. Do I want the Eggs Benedict or the French Toast?"

"You want the eggs. More protein."

Bitty kicked him under the table. "Not funny."

"I thought it was hilarious. Plus after the run we had you're going to need your protein. Build up your strength."

"I'm sorry, can you still be captain of a hockey team after you've graduated?"

"Old habits die hard."

"I guess. And you're just lucky because I was leaning towards the Eggs Benedict anyway."

Jack waved down Bertha as she walked past. "We've decided. I'll just have what I usually get."

"Two over easy eggs, wheat toast and fruit?" Jack nodded. "Perfect. And for you?"

"I'll do the eggs benedict. But instead of pancake side can I switch it to French Toast?" he glared devilishly at Jack.

"Absolutely! I'll have that right out."

The chatter over their meal turned mundane. Bitty continued the saga of the Great Jam War, Jack listened intently fascinated by the family dynamics in Georgia. So much drama over something as simple as a recipe.

Bitty laughed when he said as much. "It's so much more than a recipe, Jack. It's the whole family pride that's at stake."

Jack laughed and shook his head. "I'm the only child. Both of my parents were only children."

"What about your Uncle Wayne?" Bitty asked. "Wasn't he at your family Christmas party?"

"Any uncles I mention aren't' through blood. They're usually my parent's friends." He grinned at Bitty. "Usually met through work."

Bitty's face went flush. His hand froze halfway in bringing his fork into his mouth. "Please don't tell me that Uncle Wayne is -"

"He's exactly who you think he is, Bits."

"Son of a bitch," he swore. "So you're telling me that fucking Wayne goddamn Gretzky was just casually hanging out at your family Christmas party?"

"Yeah. I've known him since I was like. 4?" He took the check from their waitress. He ignored Bittle's feeble protests to pay as he stuck his card in the top and handed it back.

Bitty bust out laughing. "Lord alive what have I gotten myself into?"

Jack signed the check. "A lot of drunk hockey players, if you ever want to come to Montreal for J-Term. And said drunk hockey players attempting to play broomball."

Bitty laughed again. "This information is surreal. Are we ready to go? Because if you tell me you have any more close relationships with famous hockey players I will faint and I don't want to do it in public."

"Yeah, we're ready to head back. And I guess I shouldn't tell you about the gala I went to with Maman and met Tim Gunn?"

"No. No, you should not, you should shut the hell up and pretend that your entire life doesn't involve celebrities.

"Yessir. What would you like to talk about?"

"When did you learn to skate?" Bitty asked. "Or did you come out of the womb in hockey gear?" he laughed. “Like how Athena was born in Greek Mythology. Fully formed in pads bursting from Bad Bob’s skull.” 

And god, Jack couldn’t really idolize this man more. Greek mythology references, the sweetest warmest little giggle as he clung to Jack’s arm laughing at his own stupid joke.   
Jack’s response was dry, but he was still grinning. “I was 18 months, Bittle. It was only a month or two after I started walking. I was learning to skate before I really learned how to run. What about you?" 

"9. I got a pair of skates for my birthday from Mooma and figure skating lessons from my parents. I had already been rollerblading a bit so the technique was in my head. I was 12 when I entered my first competition - and took first place."

"Of course you did."

"I could have gone to the Olympics," Bitty bragged. "Katya told me that right before I quit and joined hockey. But going to the Olympics in the future was not worth being mercilessly bullied in the present. Nobody liked the idea of a boy in fancy leotards down in Georgia." he shuddered. "So I chose hockey. It was a little more acceptable and I could still skate."

"When did you realize?" Jack asked, surprised to see they were already back at the apartment. "That you were gay?"

"Oh. Around the time I started figure skating. The first time I said it out loud I was at Samwell. It wasn't the most inviting place to be gay where I grew up."

Jack waited until they were in the elevator to give him a hug, pulling him close and squeezing tight. "You're brave, Bittle. The shit you must have put up with down there? Brave."

"Jack, you're damn well just as brave. I don't really know every part of your life growing up but the shit I do know? God, it hurts me just to think of you going through it."

"The overdose?" Jack said. It was remarkably easy to talk about it with Bittle. The warmth pressing into his side would always be there. No matter what. Nothing he did would result in the loss of Bittle. It was better to tell him than to hide it to himself. His therapist had told him when he’d gone home after graduation. A good relationship was built on communication, and that meant Jack had to vocalize how he felt and what he’d gone through, even if it was hard. 

Bitty inhaled sharply but took over when Jack's hands shook too bad to open the apartment door. "It's okay," he said, pulling Jack inside and into one of the tightest hugs. A kiss was pressed to his cheek. "On your own time, sweetpea."

"I know, it's just you deserve to know." he took a deep breath. "It - ah. I was. Well. I flatlined in the Ambulance and they only barely brought me back.” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stop the fluttering in his stomach. “I was dead for 30 seconds.” It never got easier to say. 

Bitty squeezed him tighter. "I can't pretend to understand, but I am here no matter what Jack." A kiss was pressed to his cheek. "I've got your back."

"I've got yours." He almost spilled those 3 words. They were right there on the tip of his tongue. He loved this bright, warm boy that was hugging him within an inch of his life.

"When did you know." Bitty changed the subject easily as he checked on the pie crust. "That you were into men?"

"Around the Q. I, ah, was always into women... I dated in high school and it was way too easy to just ignore... it. I suppressed stuff... from the ah, anxiety and this was just another thing. It was him - Kent. He was the first one I told, the first one I. It wasn't a good relationship - if it can even be called that."

Bitty nodded, understanding, but his lips were tight and drawn. "Thank you for telling me, Jack. I mean it when I say that nothing in your past will ever make me leave."

Jack kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Now. We've got a cassoulet to make." Bitty took him by the wrist and dragged him into the kitchen. "Get a knife and chop the veggies. I'll prep the crust."

Bitty pulled up some music on their phone and the worked in silence for a while, preparing the cassoulet to go into the oven.

"Are you sure it'll turn out right? We didn't exactly follow the recipe."

"Are you doubting me, Mr. Zimmermann? It's a pie-like dish and will be the best god damn cassoulet of your life.

"Haha. We'll see. Should we do flashcards?" Jack asked after Bittle stuck the cassoulet in the oven. "

"Sure," he grinned at him. "Homework. Yay."

Jack laughed and dragged him back into the living room. "I'll make it fun, I promise.

"So," Bitty asked when the timer beeped, "Awkward, but kind of inevitable question while we're covering the heavy stuff. I know you dated girls in the college and - "

"How many?" Jack finished. "How many people have I been with romantically?"

"Yes," Bitty buried his head in his hands. "Sorry."

"Yeah, ah, other than him... then Winter Screw with Kate... I guess Samantha then Camilla. Those are the major ones."

"Well, thank you for sharing all that with me!" Bitty said.

"No problem," Jack knew it was a question that needed answering. "Just wanted to put everything out there, since you did." he picked up the cutting board and scraped the onions into Bitty's bowl.

"Since I told you about my lack of history." Bitty chuckled.

"But there was Winter Screw Guy and Rugby Guy. You guys at least kissed, right?"

Bitty looked up at Jack, distressed. "Rugby Guy tried to kiss me at Annie's and I chickened out."

"Oh? Haha."

"You! Shush." Bitty playfully pushed Jack, his hand lingering on his chest. "But wow, Kent Parson..."

"Are you jealous?" Jack was honestly surprised they were talking about this. Bitty mostly didn't mention that kegster.

"Hm." Bitty carefully pulled the cassoulet out of the oven. "You know? I don't think I am. I still remember all those awful things he said to you." He put the pie on the counter. "So no. Haha sorry if you wanted me to be."

"No. Never."

"Oh, won't you look at this! I know you were a skeptic but just you wait, Mr. Zimmermann." Bitty carefully cut into it. "I'm certain this is the healthiest cassoulet ever conceived by man."

"Tse, faire de la cuisine francais ca remplase tes aides memoire."

"What?" Bitty gave him a curious look.

Jack didn't answer and there was a long, pregnant pause.

"You told me what happened with Camilla and those other girls," he took a deep breath. "How did it end with Kent Parson?"

Jack turned to look at Bittle, who was facing the counter, not looking. So Jack just took a deep breath and delved into it. It was good when he was done, like a weight off his chest. Cathartic.

Bittle muttered something, voice bitter but too low for Jack to hear. It was probably nothing, what with the way he turned the tone around and reminded Jack of something he'd mentioned during their study session.

He nearly tripped over his feet running into the bedroom to grab the action figure. Georgia had sent some of his merch a few weeks ago and he'd been dying to give this little lego figure to Bittle ever since.

And, since Bittle had asked for a more cheesy boyfriend proposal, he had an excuse. So, here he was with the lego figure, handing it to Bittle and asking. He knew the answer, he'd already gotten it. But still, there was a lump in his throat.

Bittle yelled excitedly, grabbing the toy from Jack's hand, and Jack just had to blabber about how Georgia had sent everyone on the team one. But when Bittle looked up he saw Jack's anxious face.

"Of course I'll be your boyfriend, sweetheart! So formal!" He laughed loudly when Jack scooped him off his feet.

"It's been three months. I figured we should be official. I mean. You know. As official as we can be, I know." And it killed Jack that he had to hide this. Bittle was the best part of his life right now and Jack wanted to scream about this beautiful bright boy to the entire world. But they had to hide.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head by swinging Bittle over his shoulder. " 'swasome. How much longer does it need to bake?"

"Forty-five minutes!" Bittle said, "Oh... we could.. if you want we could..." he was being suggestive. Jack knew it without even seeing his face - he could tell it by his tone.

"Go over your flashcards," Jack said.

"I signed up for this. I literally just signed up for this," Bittle signed, relaxing into Jack's grip. "Why."

"Because. You didn't quite get it earlier so we'll keep going."

"Fi-ahh!" Bitty yelped when Jack dropped him on the couch. "Rude!"

"Flashcards," Jack said, picking up his feet and setting them on his lap. "Say 'My Name Is Eric Bittle' "

Bittle groaned but started to speak French. It was butchered French but it was close enough. He was at least starting to grasp the basic words and phrases his French teacher had assigned over the summer.

Bittle jumped to his feet when the timer finally beeped. "Cassoulet is done."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked. "Can't we leave it in for a few more minutes? These flashcards are starting to get really interesting."

Bittle turned to glare at him. "You're capital "R" Rude, Jack." There was the sound of the oven opening. "And it's done. Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"Then set the table while I take this out to cool."

"Yessir." Jack grabbed last night's plates out of the dishwasher, the forks, and grabbed the wine glasses out of the cupboard. A quick google search a few nights ago gave him hints at a good wine pairing.

"Jack Zimmermann," Bitty chirped when he saw Jack pouring the glasses. "Are you encouraging underage drinking?"

"Yes," he handed Bittle a glass. "It won't be as bad as the time I helped your tiny freshman ass do a keg stand."

"Tiny? Excuse you, Mr. Zimmermann not everyone's posteriors can be as large as yours." he took a sip of the wine. "But thank you for the wine, it'll go well with the cassoulet."

"I know."

"Expert on wine pairings now, are we?"

"I googled it."

Bitty laughed. "God, you're the best sometimes."

"I figured since we can't have a nice night out won’t stop us. We'll have a nice dinner in."

"Oh. Right," Bitty said, turning back to their dinner. "It's cool enough, I'll bring it to the table."

"It smells amazing, Bits." Jack kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you for teaching me how."

"It was my pleasure," Bitty said, setting the pie pan on the table. "But seriously, let's eat."

"Sounds great."

The dish was amazing. Jack bit his words from earlier, eating almost half of the pie in one sitting and holding back groans of pleasure at every bite. "So good, Bits."

"I know," he said. "I practiced it at home enough, figured I'd get it right this time."

"You practiced at home?" Jack asked.

“Of course I did. I wanted to get it just right for your birthday.” Bitty kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday sweetie.” 

Jack smiled dorkily. “It was. Euah. One of my favorite birthdays. By far.” 

“Well, I’m honored.” Bitty stacked the plates and carried them to the sink, dunking them in the soapy water and sticking them in the dishwasher. 

“You cooked, Bits. Let me do the dishes,” Jack tried. 

“It’s your birthday and you will not do dishes. Instead, you’ll go sit in the living room and pick whatever you want to watch. Even if it’s another WWII documentary.” Bitty hip checked him. “Go. And when I come over there. Well. We’ll just have to pick up where we left off last time, won’t we?” 

Jack was all too happy to go to the couch to stretch out. ESPN was covering the latest in golf and he was full and so immensely happy. Bitty hummed when he worked in the kitchen. Jack already knew this, he’d lived with the man for 2 years, but it was so different now. It warmed Jack’s very bones to lay on the couch and listen to Bittle make himself at home. 

Eric Bittle was in his kitchen on his birthday. Wearing the shirt for his new team, damp along the hips from the dishwater. Jack noticed this when Bitty straddled him, laughing and chirping him about taking up the entirety of the couch. 

Jack didn’t mind. Bitty’s hips were heavy across his own and there was a tightening in his gut when their hips ground together so Bitty could lean down and press kisses across the exposed part of his stomach. Jack’s laugh burst out of his chest in surprise when Bitty blew a raspberry into the line of his hip. Bitty giggled. 

“Why don’t I just take this off?” Jack asked, sitting up and tugging his shirt off. “That better?” 

“Mmmm. So much better.” Bitty ran his hands across the planes of Jack’s chest. “Lord, Jack Zimmermann.” 

And Jack agreed. Both with the sentiment and the tone in his voice. The freedom to just be able to touch each other without hesitation, without judgment. It was the best birthday gift that he had ever been given. 

He jumped again when Bitty’s hands traced up his sides. Bitty had a devious glint when he did it again getting another twitch and another huff of laughter. “Ticklish, are we?” 

“Stop.” 

But Bitty tickled him again. 

“Stop it.” Jack was laughing now, the words barely choked out in between spurts of laughter. “Bitty - Bittle. Ah!” 

Bitty was laughing too and pressed a kiss into Jack’s jaw as an apology. “I love your laugh. Your real one - when you start to sound more like a goose than a person.” 

A flare of anxiety lit up in Jack’s stomach. His laugh sounded like a goose? God - 

“It makes me want to laugh every time I hear it. It makes me smile.” 

And okay. If it made Bittle smile - and light up with warmth - then his laugh couldn’t be all bad. 

“I like it - ah - when you get the really strong southern drawl,” Jack said, words a torrential flood of emotion. Bitty rewarded this with a kiss on his lips. “It’s so cute. And makes me feel warm.” Another kiss - this time to the corner of his jaw. 

Jack rolled his head to kiss Bitty on the lips, slow and lingering. It was lazy kissing, the two of them pressed chest to chest with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Both of them a little buzzed with wine and pure joy. 

“I like every part of you Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty murmured against his lips. “Now take me to bed.”

They’d experienced the fast and frantic kind of sex - lots of it. But they had yet to experience the slow, languid kind. The kind where they laughed way too much and fell asleep on sticky sheets clinging to each other as they dozed off. 

Bitty woke up to Jack’s alarm at 7:00 and groaned. “I think I’m glued to you, Jack.” 

“Mmm. Just means we have to shower together.”

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep without changing the sheets.” 

“Right back at you.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I have to go for a run - are you coming with?” 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” A pause. “But we’re showering first.” 

They unstuck from each other, quickly rinsing off last night and shoving the filthy sheets in the hamper. Their run was quick - only one lap around the park. Jack had to get back and get ready for open skate at 9. 

“I’ll make coffee and breakfast,” Bitty said when they were back in the apartment. “You go shower and get ready.” 

“Okay.” Jack disappeared into the bedroom, humming with joy. Two mornings in a row waking up plastered to Bitty, two mornings in a row looking next to him to find someone matching him step for step. 

And the first morning emerging from the bedroom to find Bitty hunkered over his coffee machine, groaning as it percolated. There were a protein shake and a plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table. 

“Thanks, Bits.” 

“Mmmmph. Your coffee pot takes forever.” 

“A watched pot never brews,” he said, chuckling at his own joke. Bitty shot him a devilish glance but couldn’t fight back cracking a smile. 

“What are we doing today, Jack?” 

“I was thinking of giving you the grand tour of the city. I’ll pick you up after practice and show you all my favorite spots. We can even go to the rink today if you want a tour?” 

“That sounds amazing. But tomorrow I need to teach you how to make homemade PB&J’s” He spun at the sound of the beeping coffee pot and poured some into his mug. Do not let me go to Samwell without showing you.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Jack pulled a travel mug out of the cupboard. “Fill this?” 

Bitty poured the coffee into his mug. “Have a good day at work sweetie,” and he kissed him on the cheek. “See you when you get home.” 

Jack laughed. “I could get used to this. Would you be a house-husband?” 

“House anything is a leftover from the crushing patriarchy that flourished in the 1950’s and forced women into domestic visages that many of them probably didn’t want.” Bitty laughed. “Or something to that effect.” 

“Okay, Shitty.” 

“Go to work. Bring me home some bacon.” 

“Yessir.” 

Bitty laughed and pushed him towards the door. “When you come back your freezers will be plum full of meals. Healthy ones - I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to your meal plan.” 

Jack laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be back to pick you up by noon.” 

“Noon.” Bitty returned the kiss and gave Jack one final push out the door. “Bye honey.” 

“Bye Bits -” and his words were cut off by Bitty shutting the door. Jack took a second to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. God, he wanted every morning before practice to be just like that. Talking and laughing and cohabitating. He wanted his kitchen to be warm and full of Bitty’s bright presence as he fixed up breakfast and grumbled about coffee. 

“I love him,” Jack whispered out loud. It was the first time he’d said it into the air. It was the first time he’d said it about anyone that wasn’t related to him. God.   
He forced himself into the elevator. It would be way to easy - and so much more enjoyable - to just run back into the apartment. Into Bitty’s arms. He wanted to shirk hockey to spend more time with that boy. What had happened to him? 

He wasn’t at 100% at practice. He was distracted, thinking about what waited for him at home. Bitty, humming, and dancing in his kitchen. Filling his freezers, and just warming the apartment with his presence. 

 

“You okay today, Jack?” one of the rookies - Poots - asked in the locker room. “You’re off.” 

“I’m fine.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Just distracted.” 

“Must be a miracle if it can distract Jack Zimmermann from hockey,” Marty said, laughing. “Maybe it’s the fact that you’re slowly becoming an old man.” 

“26 is not old,” he defended. “But how’d you know?” 

“George told us. It’s why you weren’t at open skate yesterday, right? Big plans?” 

He thought of yesterday, the run and the breakfast. But he couldn’t tell anyone here about any of that. “Not really. Just sleeping in and running errands is all. An old teammate came up to celebrate with me.” 

“Well. We’re taking you out for drinks after practice.” 

Jack’s stomach tightened. He’d promised Bittle a ‘date’ after he got off of practice. And hanging out with his teammates? He’d kinda gotten to know them - their playing style, mostly - but he’d never before gone out with them. 

“I still have my teammate in my apartment,” Jack said. “Be rude to ditch him, wouldn’t it?” 

“Call him. See if he join.” And now Tater was in on the whole scheme. And Jack could never resist Tater’s fun, loud nature. He did need to get to know his teammates, Bittle had been egging him on to do it for months now anyway. 

Still. There was the nagging worry that Bittle would be mad about pushing their ‘date’ back. 

“Alright,” Jack fished his phone out of his practice bag. “We had plans this afternoon, but I’ll call him and see if I can push them back.” 

“Yes. Do.” Tater slapped him on the back. “Come meet out front when ready.” 

Jack dialed, stomach still twisting in knots. What if Bittle said no. What if he said yes and Jack went to drinks and said the wrong thing and made all his teammates hate him. What Bittle said yes but was secretly mad and it ruined the rest of their time together? 

“Hey, honey. Need help deciding on what kind of bacon to bring home?” 

“Haha, no.” He took a deep breath. “The guys asked me out for drinks - to celebrate my birthday and they’re not giving me an option not to go.” 

“Then go! I’ll be fine here for another hour or two. Worst case we can push our plans to tomorrow morning.” 

“Are you sure? I did commit to you first.” 

“You need to get to know your team, Jack. And more than just how they play. I want one fun little anecdote on every single one of them when you get back.” 

Jack sighed again but smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ll go for a beer or two. I’ll call you when I’m driving home.” 

“Bye honey.” 

“Bye Bittle.” He hung up and shoved his phone back into his practice bag. 

The guys were loitering by the entrance to the parking complex, and Jack could hear them laughing from down the hall. God, he really didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to make conversation with these people when Bittle was fifteen minutes away, baking up a storm. 

But here he was. “Alright. I got permission for a few drinks.” 

“Good! Throw your bags in your car and you can ride with me. We’re going to this cool sports tavern Tater found by his apartment. Probably have to sign a few napkins though, eh?” 

It felt good to be one with the team camaraderie. It felt good to be accepted by this new team that - only minutes ago - had been completely foreign to him. He felt his anxiety fade away as he started to bond. They were hockey people. Jack had spent his life with hockey people. It was easy to fit in and find his place in the team’s grove. 

He left them after a couple of drinks with a new team group chat, an invitation to all team-related meals and a brand new hockey nickname. 

“How was it, honey?” Bitty asked, poking his head into the entryway. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yes.” Jack pecked him on the lips. “Lots.” 

“Mmmph, you had beer too. Look at you drinking with your new teammates.” He pretended to wipe tears away from his eyes, only smearing flour across his face. “I’m so proud.” 

Jack gave him a light push. “I got a hockey nickname.” 

“What? You did not!” Bitty wiped his hands on his apron, jumping up and down a little. “What is it?” 

“Tater came up with it. Zimmboni.” He smirked. “Like the -” 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Bitty laughed. “Oh, Shitty will lose his mind when he hears. Finally, Jack Zimmermann was saddled with an embarrassing nickname.” 

“Yeah. Ah. Feels good to belong to another team.” 

“Of course it does!” Bitty kissed his cheek. “If you still want to go out I can clean up the mess I made of your kitchen.” 

“Yeah. I’m going to go shower, I didn’t get a chance after practice. I'll be like 15.” 

“15? Roger that, Mr.” 

Jack kissed him again. Longer, this time, pressing Bitty’s hips into the counter, hands running through his hair. He tasted like stale coffee and tomato sauce. 

“Get going, sir. You’re givin’ a young man some ideas.” 

“Oh?” What are those?”. Bitty pushed him. “Haha, okay. I’m going I’m going.” 

It was the fastest shower Jack had taken in a while. A whole afternoon spent touring Bittle around Providence. God, this whole week was the best of his life and they still had tomorrow before he had to drive Bittle down to Samwell. Warmth blossomed in his chest at all the time they still had together. 

He loved that boy and it choked him with the intensity, sometimes. 

He emerged from the bedroom, buttoning his shirt. Bitty wolf whistled. “Doesn’t someone look handsome.” 

“Too formal?” 

“Not at all. I’m going to go change quick, I can’t get the flour out of this shirt.” Bitty playfully slapped his ass on the way to the bedroom. 

Jack laughed, finding his loafers in the back of the hall closet. Yellow tennis shoes just didn’t seem to go with this outfit. Bittle commented on the lack of them in the car, kissing him on the cheek as a reward for a “sort of good fashion sense.” 

“So. First I was thinking we could go down to the river? There’s this beautiful bridge I’ve been meaning to take pictures of.” 

“You brought your camera gear?” Bitty craned around to look in the backseat. “Where is it?”

“It’s in the trunk.” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s always in the trunk, just in case.” 

Bitty laughed. “That’s adorable.” He took Jack’s hand and squeezed it tight. “You’re adorable. Maybe we can print the good ones out and hang those up somewhere, too.” 

“Then I was thinking, there’s this good pizza joint downtown? Or a seafood place, but it’s fancier. Or I’ve seen Mexican? Indian? Not Chinese because we had that the other - “ 

“Pizza sounds amazing. What about that museum you told me about? The history center?” 

“John Brown House? We can hit up that after pizza if it’s still open. It closes at 4 pm.” 

Jack pulled into a spot next to the river. “We don’t have to pay for parking - it’s Sunday.” 

“Well don’t you just have everything planned out,” Bitty said, climbing out of the car. “Where’s this bridge?”

“Down that way a little.” Jack opened the trunk and grabbed a bulky black bag. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s shall.” 

And god it was a magical evening. Sure, every second Jack longed to reach out and hold BItty’s hand or kiss him on the cheek but everything else. They had been friends first and it was all too easy to fall back into a more platonic mindset of chirping and roughhousing as they walked. Still, every touch sent a thrill singing through Jack and he could feel the dance in his step. 

Jack got some great photos of Bitty, too. Smiling and blushing as Jack insisted taking a picture of him. One of him excitedly pointing at the duck family crossing the street. Another of a pensive Bitty looking into the distance, the wind blowing his hair out of his face. The last and his favorite was the greedy look in his eyes he got when their pizza was slid in front of him. 

It was a look Jack had seen in other - less public places - and it did something to his gut. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Bitty already had two slices on his plate. 

“What? Oh, yeah.” Jack slid his phone into his pocket. “Good isn’t it?” 

Bitty moaned. It didn’t help the feeling in Jack’s gut. He gave Bitty a look and winked. 

“Maybe skip the history center?” 

“Oh?” Bitty asked, laughing. His foot rubbed up against Jack’s leg under the table, inching higher while innocently scrolling through something on his phone. “Itching to get home?” 

They skipped the history center. 

Jack pinned Bitty against the apartment door the second they were through it. “Been thinking about this all afternoon.” 

“Jesus, honey,” Bitty gasped. “Where did this come from?”

Jack’s lips were too busy sucking a mark on his shoulder to give a response. He huffed a laugh as Bitty’s “Ow” echoed the thunk of his head knocking against the the door. But Jack really couldn’t muster concern, not when his libido was racing faster than any other part of his brain. It felt like days since he’d last touched Bittle. Had it really only been this morning? 

“Jack,” Bitty said, and he was trying so hard to form coherent words. “We should try to - ah - relocate to the bedroom.” 

“Too far,” Jack said, scooping Bitty off his feet. And damn, this man was so tiny Jack could practically carry him in one hand. His ass, Jack learned, nearly fit in the palm of one of his hands and Bitty’s landing on the couch was a little abrupt as the result. 

“We really doing this here?” Bitty asked, laughing. “On the couch?” 

“Better than the entryway.” Jack was making quick work of Bitty’s jeans. “Softer.” 

“Christening the apartment.” Bitty’s back arched off the couch when Jack playfully bit into his exposed thigh. “Do that again.” 

Jack obliged, his grin feral when he looked up at Bitty. His pupils were blown, hair mussed, and his button up shirt was fully unbuttoned and clinging on by the shoulders. “Bits,” he asked. “Can I fuck you?” And Jesus, his libido had taken over because there was minimal pain in the question and in the three seconds it took for Bitty to moan his consent. 

“I’ll be mad if you don’t,” Bitty said. “But we are not doing it for the first time on your couch, Jack. Think of your guests.” 

Jack - at that point - was beyond thinking or caring about any guest except for Bittle and getting him to the nearest bed as quickly as possible. He’d been imagining what it’d be like, sinking into Bittle for the first time. The high breathy moans Bittle made when he was so close. 

As always, the reality was better than the fantasy. They lay together - after - on the bed spent and exhausted. Jack could feel the grin on his face and couldn’t manage to wipe it off. “So that was good?” 

“That was amazing,” Bitty said. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Then I did something right,” Jack said, grin growing. He laughed when Bittle’s hand smacked at his chest. “And it was amazing. For me too, it’s ah. Been awhile since.” 

“I get it. It was my first, so thank you. Mind-blowing.” 

“Leg numbing?” 

“If you carry me to the couch we can watch whatever you want on TV.” 

“Not gonna happen. You wore me out.” 

Bitty laughed, rolling into curl up with Jack. “Old man.” 

“Yeah. I am,” he whispered, dropping off into a light snooze. 

They woke up a few hours later, stumbling out of bed to pick up their discarded clothing and reheat pie for a late night snack. They at half an apple pie on the couch watching ESPN analysis of Draft Picks. Jack was on the list - the reporters spewing their doubt and their prejudice into Jack’s living room before Bittle switched it to the Food Network. 

“Don’t need that,” he murmured sleepily. 

“No,” Jack murmured back. 

They woke up around 3 am, bodies and necks stiff as they carried each other back to bed. Bitty rolled over to turn the 6 am alarm off for the both of them, curling back up together and falling asleep with promises to go running in a few hours. 

Instead, they stayed in bed. 

“We should go to the gym this morning,” Jack said. 

“Take a day off, Jack.” 

“Only if there is coffee.” 

“There’s coffee if you get up and make it,” Bitty said. “I did yesterday.” 

Jack groaned. “Alright.” he threw back the covers, laughing at Bitty’s shriek when the cold air hit his naked chest. “Give me 15 minutes. I’ll be back with coffee.” 

“Make it 20 with your slow coffee pot.” he looked at the time. “And I should get up anyway - throw me a sweatshirt?” 

Jack threw him one of his flannels. “Here. It’s a dress.” 

Bitty stuck his tongue out at Jack, pulling on the flannel and a pair of sweats. “You’re never getting this back, you know.” 

Jack laughed. “I’m fine with that, you look better in it anyway.” 

Bitty sat on the counter while Jack futzed with the coffee maker. He groaned when Jack handed him his mug. “Before you fall asleep on the granite.” 

“You’re the best.” he sipped at it. “Oh, and you make it just the way I like.” 

“5 tablespoons of sugar and a splash of milk? We should add a sugar bowl to the list so we don’t have to keep the huge container out.” 

“Why bother? You don’t put sugar in your coffee.” 

“Because you use it,” Jack said, matter of fact. “And, ah, And I hope you’ll be here often enough to warrant its use. Besides, when I see it out I’ll think of our mornings like this.” 

Bitty pressed his hand into his heart. “Jack, you are the sweetest thing to ever exist. Come here so I can kiss you.” And it was nice, this kiss of coffee and stale morning breath. Jack was getting way too attached to these domestic mornings with Bittle. It’d be hard to drop him off at Samwell tomorrow and only look forward to bi-weekly skype calls and daily texts. 

He vowed to live in the moment. “So. We’re going shopping today?” 

“Yes,” Bitty said, pulling out his phone. “I made a list of everything we need to get your apartment looking like somebody actually lives here.” 

“Okay?” 

“Lardo helped.” He slid Jack his phone, the list open in his Notes app. Jack scanned it, agreeing with the function or design of most items. He’d never be able to think of all this. 

“Why a new duvet cover?” 

“Because yours is old and ratty and does not at all match the design you’re going for in your room.” 

“There’s a design in my room?” 

Bitty sighed, burying his face in his hands. “Lord.” He pushed Jack out of the kitchen. “Just go get dressed, I’ll whip something up for breakfast and then we can go teach you how to decorate an apartment.” Jack let himself be pushed out of the kitchen, grinning when Bitty continued to murmur under his breath about Jack’s cluelessness. 

Jack rinsed off quick in the shower, throwing on the same jeans from last night and a newer shirt his mother had sent him. Bitty smiled at him when he emerged from the bedroom and slid a breakfast sandwich across the island. 

“Did you already eat?” 

“Yeah. I need to go get ready.” 

“You’re not going like that?” Jack asked, eyeing the sweatpants, oversized flannel and utter lack of t-shirt. “Pity.” 

Bitty rolled his eyes, “Eat your breakfast. I’ll shower and change and be out in 20 so we can leave.” 

“20, got it.” Jack got one last look at Bittle’s mouthwatering outfit before Bittle disappeared to get ready. God, they’d been dating for less than 4 months and yet Jack wanted Bittle here, in his apartment, forever. He didn’t want to drop Bittle off at Samwell tomorrow, he wanted to live with him in this bliss of freedom and exploration together. 

“So,” Bitty said, bursting out of the bedroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. “I thought of a plan of attack. Bed Bath and Beyond should have most of what we need, but just in case I found a couple of other homeware boutiques in the area.”

“You are really into this.” 

“Lardo and I call your apartment a beige hellhole, Jack. You giving me the opportunity to amend that is like heaven itself.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get the keys then.” 

“Beige hellhole, Jack!” Bitty called after him. 

Jack laughed. He had been meaning to decorate his apartment, the bare walls and sparse shelves made the place feel empty and hollow. It didn’t feel like home yet. And decorating with Bittle, well, it would make his apartment rife with little parts of Eric Bittle. 

“I was thinking a Samwell color scheme - the maroon and white would look really good with the furniture and paints you picked out. We can bring it in with throw pillows - and you have your old jersey to frame on the wall, too,” Bitty said when they were in the car. 

“Sounds good,” Jack said. 

“I liked the decor with your Samwell photos, that was a good idea.” 

“It was Maman’s, actually. It took her, Lardo and my father to convince me it wasn’t vain to hang my own photography on the wall.” He chuckled. “And now I’m too attached to them.” 

“You should be proud of them, honey! They’re beautiful.” He took Jack’s hand from the gear shift and pressed a light kiss into each of his knuckles. “I love them.” 

“There’s a lot of you in the stack,” Jack said, turning into the parking lot at the mall. “I didn’t realize until after I turned it in. Pictures of you baking, skating. I thought it was mostly the team but, well. I guess the camera knew I liked you even before I did.” 

Bitty laughed. “The camera never lies. Oh! there’s a spot right there.” he pointed to one close to the door and Jack slid in neatly. Bitty grinned at him when he took the key out of the ignition. “Are you ready for this?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Bitty laughed and dragged him through the sliding doors of, what Jack would come to call, the homeware mecca. There was everything there, kitchenware, living room, bedroom, and an entire aisle dedicated to “as seen on TV”.

“Jack!” Bitty giggled. “You need a Providence Falconers Snuggie?” he held up the box. “It would look amazing on your couch.” 

“Do not even think about throwing that in the cart, Bittle.” 

“I’ll buy Shitty one as a birthday gift,” Bitty said, putting it back on the shelf. “Or I’ll buy one for the Haus!” 

“Buy two for the Haus,” Jack said. “Otherwise Ransom and Holster would fight over who got to wear it.” 

“It’d get torn in half by the end of your first game, anyway.” 

“Speaking of my first game,” Jack steered their cart into the homeware section, eyes widening at the massive wall of throw pillows. “Should I reserve tickets for the whole team?” 

“Yes! They would totally love that!” Bitty grabbed a throw pillow off the wall. “This is the color we want right?” 

“It’s maroon. That’s what we’re going for, right?”

“You’re useless.” 

“No, you’re just a stereotype.” 

Bitty gave him an inquisitive look until realization dawned on him. “Oh, just cause I’m gay I know how to decorate?” he laughed. “How dare you! I put in so much effort into learning how to decorate! Days spent watching home renovation shows.” 

“I’m sorry to erase your struggle,” he pulled a pillow off the shelf and laughed. “Is this good?” 

“That’s perfect!” Bitty squealed, pulling the pillow out of his hands. Grey, with hockey sticks and pucks decorating the fabric. “I love it, it’ll look so good in your living room.” He threw all three in the cart. 

“Okay. I’m cutting you off. I don’t need more than three throw pillows.” Jack pulled the cart away from Bitty. “What else is on your list?” 

Jack shouldn’t have asked. Bitty pulled his phone out, commandeered the cart back, and started moving. He didn’t stop until an hour - and over $100 - later. Jack marveled at the amount of stuff in the cart and was amazed at how useful most of the stuff Bittle had picked out. 

“Practical and fashionable, Jack. That’s the goal.” He kissed his cheek when they got in the car. “How do you feel?” 

“Like my apartments going to actually look like someone lives there.” 

Bitty giggled. “Good! And it’ll smell like it too when we’re done baking this afternoon.” 

“What’s on the agenda for this afternoon? What are we baking now?” 

“PB&J.” 

“Because of my pre-game routine?” 

“Of course! I’m going to teach you how to make the bread and the almond butter.” 

“Swasome.” 

They got busy as soon as they were back. Bitty showed Jack, step by step, how to ensure the bread would be just the right texture and smoothness. It was trickier with whole grains, he said as they kneaded lumps of bread dough together. 

“Now it goes in the microwave,” Bitty put saran wrap over the bowl. “Poor man’s proofing drawer. And we start on the almond butter.” 

“Does it count as a proper pre-game routine if it’s not peanut butter?” 

“I’m making it with love. That’s more important - and lucky- than processed peanuts.” 

Jack laughed. “Alright then. Show me your ways.” 

“Come, young padawan and I will teach you.” He tossed a bag of almonds at Jack. “Put these in the food processor.” 

“The what?”

Bitty sighed. “Of course. The blender then and pulse it until they’re all broken into a powder.” 

 

Neither the bread nor the almond butter was hard, and Bitty pulled out several jars of the jam he had made at home. “I use Aunt Judy’s recipe but Mama will never ever know that.” He stuck a few in the fridge. “Call me when you run out and I’ll make more” 

The bread had been baking for a while and the smell was diffusing in Jack’s apartment. It was so warm in here with Bitty. They had put out most of the decor they bought in the spare moments and it finally felt like home. It wasn’t empty. It was warm and bursting with love and good smells. 

“Bread is cool!” Bitty called from the kitchen. “Now it’s time for your first Eric Bittle signature PB&J!” 

“Hah. You think these’ll help my game?” 

“Mr. Zimmermann I’m sure of it.” 

“Oh gosh, haha.” 

“And there you go! Just like my Mama used to make me!” he presented a PB&J, cut into triangles and missing the crust. It looked perfect. 

“Haha, you didn’t have to cut off the crust, Bittle.” 

“Well, you said you wanted up just like my Mama made ‘em. She also used to leave a note on each one.” 

“Oh?” Jack was grinning. The thought of little notes from Bittle already eased some of his nerves. Bitty would be there - even if only in spirit. . “So you’ll pack a game day lunch for me? With notes?” 

“And I’ll even sign ‘em ‘Love B’” 

Jack’s heart leaped. “Love, B Eh? That’s cute.” His heart sunk as Bitty stuttered out a clarification. And god, Jack didn’t want to hide him, didn’t want to be safe. It hurt that they had to. That Bitty could be anything even close to embarrassing. “Hah, Bits, No.” And he had to say it. He couldn’t not because the words were tumbling out. “I love you.” 

The plate slipped between both of their fingers. A disconnect that ended in a loud shatter, both of them standing there unbelieving for a second. Jack had really just said it, hadn’t he? And holy shit the look on Bitty’s face, the long pause. He shouldn’t have. It was too early, they’d been dating for like 2 months - if Skype calls could even count as dating. 

“I didn’t - I meant I’d love it if, or. Ah.” Because the thing was he couldn’t take it back. It was the most honest with himself he’d ever been. But his guts were twisting inside of him. “I.. I Bits, you were joking. But. Sorry.” 

Bitty’s voice was so quiet. So small. “... No, I’m sorry I should.” And the tiny sniff and the tears leaking out of the corner of his mouth were like a vice around Jack’s intestines and his throat. 

“But I meant it,” he had to say. “I do love you which is early to,” he took a deep breath and tried to explain. “But it’s like, with hockey. Or I realized you meant a lot to me and. Shit.” Because now Bitty was crying more and they were huddled over this stupid plate on the ground and. God. 

What had he done?   
But then Bittle looked up, tears still swimming in his eyes. “Oh honey, no. No.. I love you too. I’ve been loving you.” And god that helped. Jack looked at him, surprise and apprehension. Had he really said it?   
“It’s just going to be so hard keeping all that to myself. And I just don’t know how long.” 

Jack couldn’t take it. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Bittle. Because the future was uncertain and it was all riding on Jack’s shoulders. But he wanted, no he needed, to show Bittle that he wouldn’t be alone in handling all of this. And screw the plate, Jack would sweep it up later. He picked Bittle up, holding him close and sat both of them down on the couch.

“I love you,” he whispered. It felt so free to say it. 

Bitty giggled, blowing tears and snot into the corner of Jack’s shirt. “I love you too.” 

“We’re crazy idiots, aren’t we?” 

“Crazy idiots in love,” Bitty said, burrowing closer. “We really should clean up that plate.” 

“Fuck the plate,” Jack leaned forward to grab the remote out of his (new!) coffee table tray. “What’s that baking show you like? The British one?” 

Bitty turned himself so he could see where Jack was scrolling through Netflix. “That one, there. You’ll like it too, it’s calming.” 

It was calming. It wasn’t too intense, but funny and slow paced. The voices of the contestants were soothing and Jack’s body was falling from the anxiety high from earlier. Bittle - asleep - was a heavyweight against him and Jack wiped the last remnants of tears from his face before he, too, fell asleep. 

“Jack, honey?” Bitty’s voice woke him. “We fell asleep.” 

“Mmmph, yes we did.” He tightened his arms when Bitty tried to get up. “No. Stay right here, please.” 

“Jack. We currently have jam seeping into your nice hardwood floors.” 

“Iss fine.” 

“It’s a stain.”

“Stain shmane.” 

“I’m getting up.” Jack tightened. “Seriously, Jack let me get up!” He wiggled. “Please.” 

“Five more minutes.” 

“You sound like me.” 

Jack laughed. “Fine, get up then. Abandon the man you love alone, on the couch.” He sat up when Bitty climbed off him. He sighed and decided to help. “Put your shoes on before going into the kitchen.” He reluctantly stood up. “I’ll get the broom.” 

They cleaned the kitchen, Jack sweeping up the broken bits of the plate that had scattered everywhere and Bitty following with a wet mop and a rag. There was a small purple discoloration on the floor where one particularly large spot of grape jelly had landed but Jack swore up and down that he didn’t mind. 

“It’ll ah. Nevermind, it’s stupid.” Jack said when Bitty apologized for the fifteen thousandth time. 

“Nothing you feel will ever be stupid, sweetie.” Bitty was had given up scrubbing at the stain and was now sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the counters. “Tell me.”

“I guess, uh, every time I look at that spot … on the floor it’ll remind me. Of earlier. Me saying I love you for the. For the first time.” 

Bitty beamed at him. “That’s darn near the sweetest thing I ever heard, Jack. Now get down here so I can kiss you silly.” 

Jack slid to the floor next to Bitty, leaning in as Bitty peppered kisses across his face, finally landing on his mouth and laughing. The floor was damp under Jack’s thighs where Bitty had been scrubbing, and it made the whole moment feel so much more real. 

He was here, with the man (!) he loved and it was amazing. They were leaning up against his counters in a kitchen paid for by his NHL salary making out like teenagers. They were two dorks in love. In love. God, Jack could never get used to those words. 

Bitty loved him. 

It was almost impossible to believe. 

Almost. 

But he was so free with emotion and affection it was hard to let himself doubt for even a second. Bitty loved Jack and Jack loved Bitty and there was nothing else in the whole wide world that Jack wanted more in that second. 

He wanted nothing more than too spend every second with Bittle. 

That’s why it hurt so much too wake up the next morning. And not just because when their backs were sore from making out on a kitchen floor. It was because Bitty had to leave - go back too Samwell. 

So, as much as it hurt Jack had to help Bitty pack his bags and load them into Jack’s trunk. He had to drive him down to Samwell, holding hands for the last time in what would certainly feel like eons. But everyone was congregating that night for a dinner, Shitty and Lardo had driven down from Boston and it was old times again. Talking and laughing in the kitchen as Bittle cooked them all a nice healthy dinner. And afterward they settled on the couch (Bitty on the floor) and it was normal. 

It had to be normal. And normal - for the Haus - was not holding Bitty’s hand. The most he got was a bump up against each other or Bitty leaning against his legs during the movie. All he’d get for a few weeks was the chaste kiss behind Bitty’s closed door. 

Jack took a deep breath when he left the Haus. It was always hard leaving - knowing this wasn’t his home anymore. But it was so much harder this time. It ached to drive away because he was leaving behind the sun and driving straight into the dreary emptiness that was the long moments between when he got to see Bittle’s smiling face. 

He was already looking forward to calling him when he got in the door.


	4. Hi, Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Bitty deal with some Issues. AKA when Jack 110% Zimmerman drives down to Samwell and the author cried over her keyboard writing this. (And no, it wasn't because she was projecting). Enjoy!

Jack had thought everything was okay. With him, with Bittle, with what they have together. They called and texted so often where Bittle was so upbeat and so bright. He talked about his classes and about hockey and about all the new things he was baking. Jack had just assumed everything was okay. 

He was so wrong. 

God, he was so wrong. 

He’d isolated Bittle. They both had this huge part of their lives that they had to keep secret, Jack realized. It had never affected him because Jack was a man that processed things internally. He rarely showed - or spoke about - his emotions. But Bitty? God. Jack had been an idiot. 

Bitty talked it out when life got hard. And life had gotten so much harder - for the both of them. They’d gotten busy, squeezing in video chats and phone calls when they could, but God. They so rarely talked about how hard long distance was that he’d assumed everything was okay. 

Jack should have known how not okay Bittle was. 

But he didn’t. Not until he listened to that voicemail and his heart climbed into his throat. Bittle, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t anywhere close to okay and it was all Jack’s fault. Jack had put his career ahead of this bright beautiful man and hadn’t had the emotional sense to know something was wrong. 

He’d broken Bittle’s heart. 

Jack’s hands shook as he hit redial. 

When Bitty said “Can we talk” in that broken voice Jack wanted to throw up. His heart was no longer in his chest, it was clogging his throat - choking him. They had to tell the team, for Bittle. For them, really. He’d been meaning to bring it up soon anyway he just hadn’t had the time to bring it up in the scant moments they had on the phone. And by putting it off Jack had caused this. 

He made Bittle feel like he was back in Georgia. He made Bittle prioritize a relationship over his own mental health. 

Jack was well versed in how toxic that could be to a person. And he couldn’t listen to another second of Bittle breaking down. Because of him. Because Jack had been too scared to admit just how much he valued Bittle. Because Jack would throw away his whole hockey career and fame for just a chance at being with Bittle. And that terrified him. When - and how - had he fallen so hard for this boy? 

He was flying past the Boston/Rhode Island border before he realized exactly what he was doing. He had to show Bittle, to tell him, person, how much he meant. They were a team. That they both had to work together to make this work. 

Even if it meant running blocks through the rain to the porch of the house, his pruney, shaking fingers typing out a message to Bittle. He was here, Bittle just had to let him in. Bittle, who was probably so angry at him. After all that Jack had done, he only half expected Bittle to answer his texts. But still, he was willing to stay on the porch all night if he had to. 

And then the door opened. Bitty stood there, sleep-rumpled, hair sticking up in hundreds of directions, bleary-eyed and frowning in confusion.

“Bits.” was about all he could manage with his heart still in his throat. 

Within seconds Bitty was gushing over him, pulling him inside and worrying about the drive and the rain and. God. Bitty always cared for everyone else first. He never worried about what he needed, only what Jack needed. Bitty, he would sacrifice anything to ensure that Jack was happy.

But what about Bitty? They both had to make sacrifices to make this relationship work. That was the definition of a team - you make personal sacrifices for the good of everyone.

They were a team. He said it, stern, grasping Bitty’s shoulders and looking into his eyes. He had to get this across that Bitty wasn’t the only one who had to sacrifice in this relationship. 

And, even though Jack was soaked to the skin and it was five am and they were standing in the middle of the Haus they hugged. Jack didn’t know who initiated it but within seconds they were clinging to each other and Bitty was crying and Jack’s throat was clogged even more. 

It was the warmest hug Jack had ever had. He’d almost lost the sun, and now he held it here in his arms. He didn’t really know if it was rain or a tear running over his face. He really didn’t care. 

And, finally, they let go. Bitty pulled back, wiped at his tears. “I love you, Jack Zimmermann, but you should not have come here in the pouring rain. You must be exhausted. You silly boy.” 

“I really didn’t have another choice. I had to show you how important you are. Even if it meant getting my favorite suit a little wet.” he laughed. “Hopefully it doesn’t shrink.” 

“Let’s go upstairs and find you some dry clothes,” Bitty said, and let out a yawn as he led the way. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.” 

Jack was sheepish. “Yeah, I had to park up the block.” And Bitty, sleep rumpled and stumbling up the stairs reminded him of all the times Jack had dragged him out of bed to go skating. He laughed when he told Bittle. 

Bitty shushed him as they snuck past Chowder’s door, pushing him into the bedroom. “Let’s get those wet clothes off, now. Just hang them over my chair while I find you something warm.” Bitty disappeared into his closet. 

Jack peeled off his wet shirt and trousers, carefully hanging them over the back of Bitty’s desk chair. “Find anything that will fit me?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Bitty laughed, emerging with an old sweatshirt. Jack recognized it as one of his older ones. “I stole this a few weeks ago. You never wear it, so I figured it’d be safe to take.” 

Jack’s heart warmed at the thought of BItty stealing his clothes. Jack had plenty of Bitty’s tiny shorts tucked into his closet drawers. There was just something about having a part of him in his house, even though timing and distance kept them so far apart. 

When Jack pulled on the sweatshirt he was violently reminded of why he never wore it. It was closer to three-quarter sleeves than full length. Bitty tittered, pulling at the tight fabric on the shoulders. 

“This is the biggest thing I have,” he said. “Will it work?” 

“It’s fine. “ Jack sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here.’ 

When Bitty stood between his legs they were the same height and Jack looked into his eyes. “I think we should tell the team tomorrow.” 

“Jack,” Bitty’s voice was only halfway there. “Are you- what if they-” 

“They won’t, Bits. I trust them to keep this quiet.” 

“But-” 

“Then I”m outed. I was never planning on hiding you forever, Bits. Never. And they can’t kick me out of hockey just because I love a man. And even if they do it would be so worth it.” 

“Jack,’ Bitty’s lip was trembling - on the verge of crying. “I love you.” He fell into Jack’s arm, face buried in Jack’s neck, tears soaking the hood of Jack’s sweatshirt. “I’m just so worried, the media already spew so much negativity and it hurts me, Jack. Hurts me to the core when I hear them doubt you and the thought that it would get worse? That just because we’re dating you would suffer so much more. I can’t Jack. I can’t take it sometimes.” 

“Bitty,” Jack kissed his forehead. “I know it’s hard, I know. But I know myself, now, and I can handle the shit they throw at me.” He took a deep breath. Bitty was open and over emotional and Jack knew he had to reciprocate. “Mostly because I have you. I know that my parents and my teams and you, Bits, have my back. That makes everything more than okay.” 

Bitty shuddered from another sob. “I know. I just have too many feelings, and it’s hard to keep them all to myself sometimes.” 

“And now you won’t have to,” Jack said, pulling Bitty down onto the mattress next to him, tucking both of them under the covers. “We’re gonna tell the team. Tomorrow. And I’ll be better, Bits. I need to be better - for the both of us.” 

“Jack,” Bitty said. “You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you so much.” 

Jack pulled Bitty closer to him, using his weight and his warmth and his smell to calm the buzzing in the back of his brain. Be better. He’d told it to himself a thousand and one times. Be better. But here, in Bitty’s arms, he was slowly coming to the realization that maybe he was perfectly fine just the way he is. 

It was with that comforting thought that he finally drifted off to sleep.  
\--------  
Bitty was already awake when Jack opened his eyes the next morning. He was sitting up typing away on his phone. His smile was as bright as the sun when he beamed at Jack. “Morning, sweet pea.” 

“Morning, Bits,” Jack grumbled, rolling over to put his head in Bitty’s lap. Instantly, like a reflex, Bitty started playing with his hair. “Twitter?” 

Bitty laughed. “No,” Bitty handed Jack the phone. “Trying to figure out what to tell the team. I was thinking brunch would be a good time to tell them? That way, if it goes over horribly, we can drown our sorrows in mimosas.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Jack said, reading through the pending message. It was quarter to nine, according to too Bitty’s phone clock. “Jerry’s? At ten?” Bitty hummed in agreement so Jack typed it into the message and hit send. 

They had to tell the team. For Bitty. For them, really. Jack’d had a hard time keeping Bitty out of all of his conversations, especially when Shitty or Ransom or Holster brought him up on the phone. Jack loved that boy so much and it would be the best thing in the world to be able to proclaim it, even if it was only to a few people. 

Jack handed Bitty his phone back. “We should leave in an hour.” 

“Does that mean we have to get up?” 

“Unfortunately.” Bitty pushed Jack’s head off his lap. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee, do you want one?” 

“Please,” Jack said, forcing himself to sit up in bed. “I think we got around 3 hours of sleep?” 

“You’re napping later, mister,” Bitty said before slipping out the door, shutting - and locking - it behind him. When he was gone Jack grabbed his phone off the nightstand, googling the number for Jerry’s cafe downtown. 

“Hi,” he said, pacing the floor. “I was wondering if I could reserve the restaurant for this morning? Sorry, it’s so last minute, but I am more than willing to pay double whatever your rate is.”

He knew it was a bit rash, a bit over the top, maybe. But Jack - and Bitty, probably - would feel a lot more comfortable coming out to their friends in a private place. Plus, Shitty would probably drink the restaurant out of mimosas anyway. 

Bitty tiptoed back into the room a few minutes after the call ended. He handed a mug Jack and sank into his desk chair. Jack smiled at Bitty over his coffee cup, taking a sip. Somehow, the coffee Bitty made always tasted so much better than anything Jack could create. Mixed with love, he supposed.

“Still can’t believe you’re here,” Bitty said, sighing. “Thank you.” 

“It wasn’t a problem,” Jack sipped at his coffee, settling on the edge of the bed. “Anything for you, Bittle. Anything.” 

Bitty blushed. “I love you, too, Jack.” Bitty ran a hand along the shirt that hung on his chair. “Seems like your clothes are dry. We should probably get dressed and get ready to go.” 

“We should, shouldn’t we,” Jack sighed, setting his coffee mug on the nightstand. “Toss me my shirt?” He asked as he tugged the sweatshirt over his head. 

Jack heard Bitty’s gasp as he got the shirt over his shoulders and his head. Oh, right. 

“Jack was that bruise from -” Bitty said, abandoning his coffee mug and Jack’s shirt on the desk. He pushed Jack flat onto the mattress to run gentle, callused fingers along the purplish-yellow bruise on his side. 

“Yeah, a check. We iced it, it doesn’t hurt anymore, really. It’s fine.” 

Jack’s smile grew when Bitty pressed a gentle kiss into his bruise. He started to say something but it turned into a yelp when Bitty moved away from his bruise to blow a raspberry into Jack’s side. Bitty giggled into his skin as he blew another one closer to Jack’s bellybutton. 

“You, ah! Stop it!” Jack said as Bitty continued. “Seriously!” 

Bitty’s grin was Wiley when he looked up at Jack, his lips and hands hovering around the waistline of his boxers. “You know,” Bitty said and winked. “I never properly congratulated you for that amazing goal last night.” 

“Oh?” Jack asked, his grin matching Bitty’s. “You know, I was thinking of you when I scored it. Hoping you were watching.” 

“Oh, I was watching, alright.” Bitty’s fingers slipped into the waistline of Jack’s boxers. “You getting a certain idea, Mr. Zimmerman?” he asked when he found Jack halfway hard. 

“Well,” Jack said, but his words were cut off when Bitty pressed a gentle kiss into the top of his hip. His brain was slowly becoming scrambled - it’d been so long. “Only if you’re getting a certain idea.” 

“I’m getting oh so many ideas,” Bitty said. “But one in particular.” 

Jack really couldn’t respond with anything more than a groan - muffled into Bitty’s pillow. He couldn't see, but he could feel Bitty’s kisses get closer and closer to his growing erection. And when they were close - so close Bitty stopped, pulled away. 

And proceeded to blow a very long, very loud, raspberry into Jack’s pelvic bone. Jack was glad he had pushed a pillow over his face because the resulting yell was so loud it would have woken up the Lax Bros across the street. 

Bitty was losing it in gales of laughter when Jack pulled the pillow away to glare at him. “Was that your idea?” 

“Only one of them,” he said. “Put that pillow back over your face and find out just what else I was thinking.” The sexy effect was lost in the fact that he was still laughing. It soon stopped when Bitty picked up the pillow, tucking a corner of it into Jack’s open mouth. 

“Bite on that, Jack. I know how loud you get.” 

He was loud in the bedroom, Bitty was right. Especially when he was getting a blow job. He couldn’t stop the noises from tumbling out of his mouth, and the fact that Bitty had practically ordered him to keep this makeshift gag in his mouth? It was doing things to him. 

Good things. 

Because, Bitty wasn’t the best at giving blow jobs, but god. He was so enthusiastic, happily humming and praising Jack when he pulled off. The best part - something new Bitty had come up with was getting a finger wet and fingering Jack as he gleefully sucked him off. 

Jack had to fight to get his muscles to work after he came. He pulled himself into a sitting position and dragged Bitty on his lap, sticking his tongue down his throat to show his appreciation. The angle was awkward but so worth it when Jack somehow pulled off Bitty’s shorts and got a hand around his dick. Bitty moaned and groaned, biting into Jack’s shoulder to muffle the noises he made when Jack jacked him off. 

“Holy shit,” Bitty muttered. “That’ll leave a mark,” he traced a finger around the bite mark on Jack’s shoulder. “Sorry babe.” 

“I’m not complaining, it’ll serve as a great reminder over the next few lonely weeks.” He winced when Bitty pulled away from him. “I think we need a shower. Think you can smuggle me in?” 

“It’s holy shit, 9:20 on a Saturday morning, Jack. Nobody else is up yet, and it’s my block for the bathroom until 9:30.” 

“What, did Holster make a spreadsheet of a bathroom schedule?” Jack asked, laughing. 

“He, in fact, did.” Bitty crawled off the bed to grab two clean towels out of a drawer and tossed one to Jack. “I’ll come with you.” 

Jack waited until Bitty said the all clear to rush across the hallway into the bathroom. Jack had only used the bathroom a few times and he'd honestly forgotten about how tiny the shower was, especially with the two of them squeezed into the small space. 

“We need to be in and out, Jack. So no funny business.” 

There was only mild funny business. Jack, when lathering shampoo into Bitty’s hair, had a grand old time making it into mohawks and mullet. Bitty poked him in the stomach, grinning up at Jack. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, leaning into the water spray to wash the soap out. 

“You love me anyway,” Jack said, washing the soap out of his own hair. “I’m done, so I’m going to step out and let you enjoy the rest of your shower.” He almost slipped on the puddle of water on the floor, grabbing at the wall and the shower curtain to prevent completely wiping out. 

Bitty laughed. His laugh only got louder when Jack poked his head through the shower curtain to glare at him. “Really?” Jack asked. “Also, shush, won’t the team hear you?” 

“Probably, but still.” He giggled. “Reminds me of another time an angry Jack ripped back the shower curtain to glare at me. “

Jack’s frown morphed into a sheepish grin. “Wow. That was a year ago, eh? How times change.” He kissed Bitty to prove his point. “Enjoy your shower, I’m going to sneak back across the hall.” 

Bitty was right, the Haus was dead on Saturday mornings. He checked first, snuck across the hallway and into Bitty’s bedroom. He felt a little guilty about sneaking around the Haus, but who was he kidding. Coming out to the team wasn’t best done with only a towel wrapped around his waist. 

Brunch. That’s when they would tell the team. He sighed deeply, pulling on his boxers and dry pants. He knew that everything would be fine, the team would accept them with open arms. They were his best friends, but still. There was the terror of not knowing. The resulting lump in his throat wouldn’t dissolve. 

“We should get there early, grab a table,” Bitty said, tugging on clean clothes. “Want to walk or drive?” 

“Walk.” Jack was decisive, the exercise would put the anxiety on the back burner. Already he was itching for his morning run. 

It was hard not holding hands with Bittle. His anxiety was rising and he sought the comfort of touch. But Bitty was smiling and chatting and walking close enough that their shoulders brushed. That was enough. It had to be enough, for now. 

Bitty gave him a skeptical glance when the manager of Jerry’s met them in an empty restaurant. She called Jack by his first name, guiding them to their biggest booth. 

“What did you do, Jack?” Bitty asked, staring with wide eyes around the empty restaurant. “Did you-” 

“I thought it would be ah. Easier. With privacy.” He grinned sheepishly. “Don’t mention it to the team - the chirping will never stop.” 

“Honey, the chirping will never stop no matter what. We’re dating, honey. That’s an open invitation for loving mockery. And fines.” Bitty sighed, finally realizing. “I”m going to have to cut down on the pet names, ain’t I?” 

“I’ve got an NHL salary, Bits. Call me whatever you like.” Jack slung an arm over the back of his chair. “I’ll cover the fines.” 

Bitty looked up at him smiling, only a little bit of nervous tension sitting in the back of his warm brown eyes. Jack smiled back, unable to tear his eyes away. This was it - they were telling the team. There was no going back as Ransom and Holster and Shitty and Lardo burst into Jerry’s. 

Bitty’s hands were shaking as he greeted the team, inviting them to sit down, drink coffee. His adorable southern hospitality was overcoming his nerves. The team piled in around them surprised to see Jack and excited to see fresh mugs of coffee waiting for them. 

“Should we tell them now? Or wait until they order?” Bitty whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his hands. Jack pulled him closer, moving his hand onto his shoulder. 

This was for Bittle. This was for them. And, really, it was better sooner than later. Tell them now, get the reaction over with before the waitress came back, right? But it was Bittty’s decision. This was for Bitty most of all. “Whenever you’re ready Bits.” 

Jack’s heart was beating in his throat as Bitty got the team’s attention. And it seemed so easy, so stupidly easy, when Bitty just blurted it out. There, at 10 am in the middle of Jerry’s. “I and Jack are dating!” 

It was 20 full seconds of silence. 20 seconds of processing, straight faces, all eyes on the two of them. 20 seconds for Jack to process, understand, and completely regret all the words Bitty had just said. It was too long, they hated the idea of Jack and Bitty together. 

And then the booth exploded. 

And Jack was laughing, Bitty was laughing. Relief was washing across both of their faces as they realized. The team had already known. Because, of course, they did because, Jack realized, no matter what happened they were together. Ransom and Holster and Shitty and lardo loved and supported each other no matter what. 

They were a team.


	5. Dinner at Marty's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Bitty come out to various team members and attend Marty's dinner. 
> 
> And, ok, maybe I'm projecting. But that's what we write for, no?

Jack had never really come out to anyone. Not before he started dating Bittle did he ever find himself explaining his sexuality, who he was. His parents just kind of knew - after Parse it was more than obvious. And it wasn't a problem around the team if he only dated women he'd never have to tell them he was gay. 

 

 

Bi? 

 

 

Jack understood why as he sat in the truck that morning. He understood why it was such a trial to just blurt out that he loved a man and so be it. Who cares? But there was a hard knot in Jack's gut and negative thoughts swirling around his brain and god. He understood why Bitty was so hesitant to come out to his parents. 

 

 

He knew, logically, that George would be everything he needed. Loving and accepting and accommodating. It was why they - Jack and Bitty - had chosen to come out to her first. Baby steps. But there was that fearful knot in his gut that everything would go wrong. 

 

 

What if she rejected him? What then? 

 

 

And Jack couldn't think of that. That was a slippery slope. He had to shove it to the deepest corners of his brain and focus on the positive. Him and Bits. Together - as a couple - at the family skate, at Marty's dinners. Not feeling that damned punch in the gut everytime anyone asked him about his 'girlfriend'. 

 

 

So he had to do this. Despite the shaking hands and the roiling gut, he had to get out of this car and talk to George. 

 

 

"For you and Bits." 

 

 

\------

 

 

"Hey Bits," he said, dialing the phone before he was in the car. He had to tell Bittle. 

 

 

"Hey, honey! Did you have your run with George today?" 

 

 

"Yeah," Jack said. 

 

 

"Good! How did it go? Was all that anxiety you had last night for nothing?" 

 

 

"Haha, yeah. It went well." 

 

 

"Good! Oh, honey, I'm so happy for you. Seriously, I couldn't be prouder. I know how hard it is coming out to people. God, this means I'm going to be dragged along to all your silly little events now, aren't I?" he laughed. "Can't wait! I'll be baking up a storm now won't I?" 

 

 

"Euah, yea. Uh, Marty has this dinner with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends and wives next week. I was thinking that it could be an opener? For us, I mean. As a couple." 

 

 

"You wanna tell Marty?" Bitty said. "Honey, we don't have to rush it we can go at whatever speed you're comfortable working with." 

 

 

"No, I uh. Marty is the next logical choice." He said. "Plus I hate those dinners and it would be better if you were there." 

 

 

"Alright, honey. Like I said whatever your speed. You know how many people will be there so I can get on my baking?" 

 

 

"Usually around 8 or 9." 

 

 

"I'll get on it then. And honey?" 

 

 

"Yeah?" 

 

 

"I love you and I am so so so proud of you." There was a muted scuffle on the phone and loud voices. Bitty, away from the microphone yelled. "Y'all shut up! Yes, I'm on the phone with Jack and no that is not a fine." 

 

 

Jack laughed. "I'll let you go deal with that." 

 

 

"I will fight them if I have to," Bitty said. "Bye Jack." 

 

 

"Bye Bits. Sweetheart. Mon Amour. Mon petit chou. Mon puce. I love you. See you tomorrow night - skype?" 

 

 

"I hate you," Bitty said. "You're just showing off because the boys can't hear you. Yes, Skype tomorrow. Bye. I love you." 

 

 

And, just before Jack disconnected the phone call he heard Bitty yell, "Fuck off Ransom and let me love my boyfriend!" 

 

 

Dinner at Marty's was, in a word, interesting. It was usually a quiet dinner, just the older teammates, and their wives. Tater usually tagged along with Jack, both of them going stag. But Tater was busy leaving Marty, Thirdy, Snowy, their families, and Jack

 

Oh yeah. And Bittle. 

 

He was bringing his boyfriend to a dinner with his teammates. Only one of which actually knew that Jack was gay. 

 

Bi?

 

But Marty had been more than okay with it, being a little exuberant after practice, clapping him on the back and making awkward amounts of eye contact. Jack knew Marty was dying to ask questions so he lingered until all the other team members had cleared out of the locker room. 

 

"Go ahead, Marty," he said in French, stuffing the last of his gear in his bag. 

 

"What?" 

 

"Ask away, I know you're dying to ask. About me and Bittle." 

 

"I mean, I don't care that it's a man. And my wife will quiz you two enough at dinner tomorrow so I don't want to be overwhelming." 

 

Jack smiled at him. "Thanks, Marty. Really. It helps for me - for us - to have so many people behind us." 

 

"Jack, we will all be behind you. And if not? Then Thirdy and I will beat the everliving shit out of them if they try anything." 

 

Jack chuckled. "You'll have to wait in line behind Bittle and Georgia." 

 

"So be it. I can't wait to meet Bittle, and my wife is dying to pick his brain for pie recipes. I do want to ask - should I broach the topic to Thirdy and Snowy? They'll be at dinner, but I don't want to out you if you -" 

 

"No, go ahead. Mention it, especially because Bittle is bringing all of the desserts. Two kinds of pie, a cake and homemade ice cream." 

 

"Wow," Marty said. "I'll tell everyone that Jack and his boyfriend have dessert covered for dinner, then." He winked. "Can't wait to meet your boy." 

 

"Thanks, Marty." Jack gave him an awkward one-armed hug. "Seriously." 

 

"No problem. It's what a co-captain is for, right?" 

 

 

Thirdy and Snowy both gave him a knowing look at the next practice. Marty had obviously mentioned something to them and told them to keep it quiet. Jack appreciated how low-key everyone was being about this whole situation, it flew directly in the face of the nightmares he'd been having for months. 

 

\--

 

They were his team. Jack had nothing to be nervous about, everyone in that house knew about him and Bittle and were welcoming them with open arms. With love. They loved Jack, Marty had assured him of that dozens of times. 

 

And yet. Jack sat in the passenger seat with a death grip on Bitty's hand, trying to regulate his breathing. There was a difference between knowing and seeing. What if any of them took one good look at the two of them together and were disgusted? 

 

What if he had lost his carefully built place as a member of this team?

 

"Jack,' Bitty said. "Sweetpea, I know you're having a hard time right now but we have to go in eventually. Can I help you?" 

 

"What if they hate me?" Jack wheezed out. "What if-" 

 

"Sweetpea. Jack, look at me. Those guys in there just want to see you happy, even if that means dating little ol' me. Remember what Marty said - no matter what those people in there have your back. Plus, I doubt we are the first gay couple they've ever met." 

 

Jack took a shaky deep breath. "Right." 

 

"They've got your back. And if they don't I'll kick their ass. And then Georgia will kick their ass. And then will the rest of SMH." 

 

It drew out a shaky laugh, imagining Bitty going at it with one of the burly professional hockey players. "Right." 

 

"I've got your back. Plus, I'm ready and willing to fake a stomachache or dire homework project to get out early, if need be." 

 

Another shaky deep breath. "We'd better go then. Otherwise, that ice cream will melt, right?" 

 

As usual Jack's anxiety made it bigger than it needed to be. He was, of course, welcomed with open arms. Marty's wife exclaimed over the pies, thanked Bittle and hugged both of them. Jack was hardcore blanking at the names of wives and girlfriends and kids, but it could be worse. 

 

He didn't have to pretend here, he could sling his arm around Bittle and look at him lovingly. There were dozens of questions about how they met, how Bitty started baking, and how Jack - the hockey robot - got his head out of his ass long enough to admit feelings. 

 

It was amazing. 

 

Marty's wife, as a welcome to Bitty, made all southern food for dinner. Bitty laughed when he saw the spread and declared all of it the best barbeque north of the Mason Dixon line. He was soon dragged into the kitchen by the gaggled of wives and girlfriends asking questions about baking. 

 

Jack was left in the living room in the middle of a golf discussion when Snowy turned to him. "Look, man, both me and Thirdy talked. If anyone messes with you because you're dating Bittle I will kick their ass." 

 

"Hard." Thirdy seconded. 

 

Jack laughed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "Thank's guys. Euh, I really appreciate it." 

 

"So, what did you think of the Women's Opener this year?" Marty asked and just like that they were back into sports. It was the best, knowing he was loved and accepted but not having to talk and discuss it every three seconds. 

 

Bitty cried when Jack told him what the guys had said. Blubbering into Jack's shoulder he confessed, "I've just never ever been anywhere so open, so welcoming." The words about Georgia went unsaid, but not missed. Jack knew what Bitty was dancing around. 

 

Besides, Jack seconded the feeling. He'd never been this open about his sexuality, who he was. He had never found a place where his whole self was truly accepted. And now that he had it he was wondering why the hell it had taken 25 years to find it?


	6. Family Skate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's POV from the family skate. This one was actually really hard to write, I don't know why. 
> 
>  
> 
> Love all comments and kudos, keep 'em coming.

****

**Martin, Georgia**  
 **Family Skate**  
 **To: JLZimmerman@P.Falconers.org**  
  
  
Hey, Jack!  
There is a family skate the weekend after next, as you probably know. I forgot to grab you after practice but I encourage you to bring Bittle this month. The team is in your corner, Jack and I think they’d like to know who actually bakes all those nook pies.   
No, the nutritionist won’t be there so we don’t have to worry about Bittle being murdered with a hockey skate.   
Sincerely,

Georgia Martin  
Providence Falconers   
General Manager

* * *

 

**Zimmerman, Jaques**   
**RE: Family Skate**   
**To: GLMartin@P.Falconers.org**

I talked to Bittle. He agrees with you and we will both be at the Family Skate on Saturday. I was thinking I should tell the team about him before the family skate so it ’s not a surprise. Do we need to worry about anything?   
  
Jack

* * *

 

**Martin, Georgia**   
**Family Skate**   
**To: JLZimmerman@P.Falconers.org**

Nope. Consider everything handled you have nothing to worry about. Press is going to be limited - only Falcs TV will be there for the first half hour. Am I assuming Bittle is bringing pie?

**Zimmerman, Jaques**   
**RE: Family Skate**   
**To: GLMartin@P.Falconers.org**

We will be there at 10:30. Of course, Bittle is bringing pies.

____________________________

  
The Falconers Monthly Family Skate was in full swing by the time they got there. It was in their larger outdoor rink. With the warming-house, the stands, and the increased ice size it was more than enough to accommodate a hockey team and their families. 

Jack was used to going to these things. Usually, he hung out with Tater, Poots and the other single guys on the team. They would skate, eat way too much of the potluck, and end up babysitting the kids while their parents talked on the sidelines. 

This time was completely different. This time he wasn’t alone - one of the single guys. Bitty was sitting in the passenger seat looking just as nervous as Jack was. They were both stalling, not wanting to go in and face the team.   
They may have been out but they weren’t very proud. Not right now, anyway. Jack snorted a laugh at the thought. 

“What?” Bitty asked. “Why are you laughin’?” His accent was stronger when he was nervous. 

“We may be out,” Jack said. “But we’re not very proud now are we?” 

“Oh shaddup,” Bitty playfully pushed at his shoulder. “You sure it’s not too late to make a run for it? The boys at home will be glad to eat all this pie.” 

“George would kill us.” 

“So we should go then. I mean, we’re already late enough, right?” 

Neither of them moved. 

“I’m nervous,” Jack said. 

“I could tell,” Bitty chirped, then sobered at Jack’s expression. “I know, honey. I love you and the team loves you and nothing bad is going to happen.” Jack knew he was saying it for the both of them.

“We have to do this,” Jack said. “For us.” 

“Out and proud,” Bitty said, finally unbuckling his seatbelt. 

Jack laughed as he followed suit. “Out and proud.” 

Bitty whispered it one more time before they stepped into the warming house. This was for the both of them, so they didn’t have to hide anymore. Jack didn’t have to lie to them about Bittle - the only other thing in his life that was more important than hockey. 

“This is Bittle. Eric. My boyfriend,” Jack said to the people gathered in the warming-house. “We brought pie.” 

“I brought pie. You sat there and tried to eat the filling,” Bitty chirped. “It’s nice to meet Y'all.”

“You too,” Snowy’s girlfriend said. “I’m Patricia, I belong to that one back there. He just raves about your baking. Anything I can do to help?” 

Bitty laughed. “Can’t imagine Snowy raving about much of anything. And if you wanna help me get the tinfoil off? We can go let the boys play.” 

“I like him,” Snowy said to Jack. “Just so you know.” 

“Thanks,” Jack said, sitting down to tie his skates on the bench outside the warming house. “Really. What you, uh, said to Poots the other day? Thanks.” 

“Jack!” Tater yelled, skating full speed towards them. “You bring little baker?” 

“He’s with Patricia,” Jack said, pointing. “Gossiping about us.” 

“Oh. Well, I say hello later. Marty and Thirdy want us to scrimmage.” 

Jack shrugged. “Good. I’ll kick your asses.” And was off.

The Family skate that day was amazing. Jack couldn’t stop looking around at the seas of smiling families in astonishment. He finally belonged - wholly. There was nothing he had to hide anymore, he could chirp and touch Bittle as much as he wanted to. Those guards he’d so carefully built up at the end of the season were breaking down in the span of one afternoon. 

Bitty was amazing, too. There was concern and worry in the back of his eyes, always flicking around at teammates. Jack felt it too as if any second they all would turn on them. But as soon as Tater worked his weird Russian charm on Bitty the worried glances became few and far between. 

There were the kids, too. As soon as Marty and Thirdy’s family showed up, Bitty was in love. He ditched the warming house and fretting over pie to haul around kids, laughing as he taught them how to skate. It warmed Jack’s very soul to see Bitty, bright and happy and working so well with kids. 

Marty’s comment about “one-day having kids” was surprising but not unwelcome. Jack could see very clearly into his future. It was bright, mostly because he would have Bittle. Jack would wake up next to his bright smile and sunny disposition every morning. 

Jack could see himself and Bitty as the old farts on the bench, watching younger rookies tow their kids around. Jack would still be chirping Bittle to hear his laugh - less twinkly but still as bright as it had always been. 

And, by then, they wouldn’t have to hide from the cameras anymore. 

Jack smiled, settling back contently, and half investing in the conversation. He was caught up in the daydream. That was, until, he heard Tater’s booming voice asking Bitty if he could lift him.

His brain went into a stupidity-prevention mode, remembering all the times Ransom and Holster had tried to do the same. Only this time, Bitty was much smaller and Tater was much much larger.

Dear god, he’d never get another family skate with Bittle because he’d be crushed.

He had to go fix this, tell them that it wasn’t a good idea. Marty and Thirdy were too busy laughing, keeping Jack back. 

“Oh, let them skate,” they chided. “Bitty’s strong, right?” 

“Not that strong-“ Jack protested, but it was too late. Tater was already moving,

Bitty was already in form and before Jack could really do anything to stop it Tater was in the air, Bitty had caught him. 

Bitty was holding Tater up. It was only a few seconds, but it was there. Bitty, muscles working overtime in his arms and legs, was holding up a 300-pound hockey player. And, if Bitty could lift Tater then he could… 

His brain went all directions, most of them not at all Family Friendly. All Jack could really do was stand there, willing away anything too graphic. 

They went home very shortly afterward.   



	7. Mon Capitan

Jack had been waiting for the call all day. Between the group chat, Ransom and Holster’s assurances he knew that Bitty would get the ‘C’. But still, there was doubt and there was an overwhelming amount of hope. 

And yeah, Jack was totally biased. Bitty so deserved to be captain. He’d come so far, overcome so much. To have him succeed, to know that the team loved him and supported him and trusted him? Jack knew what it had felt like to get the ‘C’ - twice. It was overwhelming. 

Jack expected Bitty to be blubbering on the phone when he picked up. Instead, he was bright and strong and clear as he announced “Jack! I got the ‘C’!” 

Though he had known, though he had completely expected this he was still overcome with a rush of pride and adrenaline. Bitty had done it, he’d come so far from where they had been his freshman year. 

“Bits!” He yelled, knowing and not caring that he was in the middle of the nook at the rink. And then, as an explanation, “Bitty just found out he’s captain!” To a chorus of congratulations. 

“I seriously cannot believe it,” Bitty said, and now he was crying. 

“I can,” Jack said, firm. “I can totally believe you got the ‘c’. You’ve come so far from Freshman Year. All the boys love you.” And Jack was kind of crying, too. He stepped out into the hallway. “I love you.” 

“Jack,” Bitty blubbered. “You deserve credit, too. Without you, I never woulda’ been able to stay on the team.” 

“Stop making me cry in front of my team,” Jack said, dabbing at the tears in his eyes. “I’ll be leaving in the hour - we can cry together then.” 

Bitty burbled a laugh. “I’m crying in front of the team, too. Ransom is offering me my own goddamn pie in sympathy.” Then, at the people on the other end. “Stop it! Y’all did this mess so let me weep in peace.” 

“Haha, told you they love you. I’ll be down there in ‘bout an hour, okay? We can celebrate, then. I love you.” 

“S’wasome. Love you too.” 

“Oh and Bits?” 

“Yes, Jack?” 

“I might have something special planned for Samwell’s new captain.” 

“And that is?” 

“You’ll find out. Later, when we finally get some alone time.” 

“Jack!” Bitty whispered. “What the hell are you planning?!” 

“Find out later. Love you, just giving you something to think about.” And hung up.   
He stuck his head back in the nook before he took off. “I’m going to head out now. Going down to Samwell for the weekend, so if you guys need anything.” 

“We won’t. Go kiss your boy, Z.” Tater was winking lewdly. “And give our congrats to new baker captain. Also bring back jam.” 

Jack rolled his eyes and ducked out of the nook. It felt so good to be going back to Samwell for the weekend - he missed the gang. He missed Bitty. It had been in and out over Easter and it had been a while since they’d had a few days together. 

And now, this weekend, Jack had to plan exactly how he would ravish his boyfriend. Solely in the name of celebration. The mere thought of Bitty as captain - ordering people around in that stern voice of his? Well. It gave Jack way too many things to think about on the 40-minute drive north. 

He found a parking spot actually close to the Haus for once, and it was a mad scramble to get his bag out of the backseat and jog to the house. Bitty was there, waiting in the kitchen for him. He saw the grinning face through the window and then the full body collision in the entryway. 

“Bitty, congratulations, you so deserve it,” Jack sobbed into his shirt. He’d been able to hold back the tears and the overwhelming pride until that moment. His boyfriend - the boy who’d struggled and suffered so much - had gotten everything he had deserved. D

He couldn’t at all understand what Bitty was saying back, something about the joy of Jack being here. He, too, was crying, and clinging to Jack with arms and legs wrapped around him. 

Jack shifted his grip, holding Bitty underneath his knees when the rest of the team showed up to greet Jack. They both had tears in their eyes, and Bitty insisted that tonight - at least - they wouldn’t fine them. 

“Consider it a new order from your new captain,” Bitty said. 

“Not till we’ve graduated,” Ransom pointed out. Bitty gave him a sharp look. “But fine, just this weekend.” 

Jack set Bitty on his feet, keeping his arm tight around his shoulders. “So, what kind of shenanigans do you have planned for tonight?” 

“An all SMH member mandatory party,” Ransom said. “Just the team and copies amounts of alcohol. Shitty sends his regrets but he’s stuck at Law School.” 

“Term paper,” Lardo said, coming in to hug Jack. “Good to see you, man.” 

“You too.” 

“Apparently I also get to do the first keg stand, tonight,” Bitty said, dryly. “Guess the first thing I do as SMH captain is get drunk?” 

“Sounds about right,” Jack said, remembering only the haze of the post captaincy party. “Don’t remember much after the banquet.” 

“Attaboy,” Ransom slapped Jack on the shoulder. “I love drunk Jack.” 

“Jack doesn’t,” he retorted. “I’m going to go bring my bags upstairs. Then the party can start.” He gave Bitty a look before he headed up the stairs. 

“I’m going to go help him get settled,” Bitty said, to a chorus of whoops. “What? Seriously, get your minds out of the fucking gutter.” 

He was close on Jack’s heels, coming into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. “I grabbed your backpack,” and went over to set it on the desk. “I swear all those boys think about is sex.” 

“In their defense,” Jack said, coming up behind Bitty to mouth at the side of his neck. “They weren’t wrong.” 

Bitty only managed a long groan, his whole body sinking back into Jack’s. “Now, seriously? The whole team is downstairs waiting to party.” 

“I want you to remember this,” Jack whispered in his ear.

“Mmmph,” Bitty groaned. “Is this what you were planning?” 

“What can I say? I like men in positions of power.” The dirty talk came so much easier when his dick was in total control. “So why don’t you tell me what to do, captain?” 

Bitty moaned, covering his mouth with his hand. “Jesus, Jack?” And spun around to kiss him, the kiss hot and passionate from the start. “On your knees? Let’s do that thing we tried the last time.” 

Jack moaned, falling to his knees, pushing his face into Bitty’s thigh. “Pants, off,” he panted, shaking fingers trying to work the button and the zipper. He got them open, yanking Bitty’s pants and underwear down in one move, all too eager to get that beautiful boy’s dick in his mouth. 

“Damn,” Bitty sighed, both his hands twisted tightly in Jack’s hair. “God, you are so good at this - shit!” He yelped again when Jack surged forward, trying to take Bitty’s entire dick into his mouth and down his throat. 

It didn’t last long. It was a couple more thrusts of Jack’s head, a clever move with his tongue and Bitty was spilling across his tongue. He pulled back, grinning like a cat, and looked up at Bitty.

Bitty just blinked down at him. “I think that was the best blowjob of my fucking life,” he said. 

“Congratulations,” was all Jack said back, voice hoarse. “Care to return the favor?” 

“No,” Bitty said, and Jack’s eyes shot up. “You said I was in control, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“So what would you think of me making you wait? All night, just so I know you're on the edge and waiting for me. Then, when everyone goes home and everyone is too drunk to see straight I take you up here and take you apart?” 

Jack moaned, falling forward into Bitty’s thighs. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

“Good,” Bitty said, pulling his pants up. “Because I don’t want you to come until I”m inside you.” 

Jack didn’t know where the hell this had come from, but he didn’t mind. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with ideas. And Bitty’s ideas were fifty times better than anything he could have come up with at that moment. 

Especially when Bitty was the biggest tease. Jack had known this going in, but still. When he was turned on, wanting nothing more than to drag Bitty upstairs or go jack off in the bathroom it was even worse. The boy danced like pure sex and when he wasn’t doing that he was hanging on Jack whispering in his ear. 

He almost came on the spot when Bitty finally whispered: “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Bitty took his time upstairs, too. He carefully stripped Jack, kissing every inch of exposed skin, and fingering him until he was a broken gasping mess on the bed. Only then did Bitty peel off his briefs and fuck him into oblivion. 

Bitty wasn’t even three thrusts in when Jack came spurting - untouched - across his chest. Bitty wasn’t far behind, the night had been their hottest (and kinkiest) to date. 

“I’’m going to go grab a washrag,” Bitty murmured against Jack’s skin. “Don’t move, okay?” 

“Don’t think I could,” Jack groaned. 

“Good boy,” Bitty winked, disappearing out the door. 

The washcloth was warm as it swiped against Jack’s stomach. After he was clean Bitty carelessly tossed it across the room at the hamper and pulled the covers over the both of them. 

“Thank you,” Bitty whispered. “Best night of my life.” 

"Moi aussi, mon Capitan," Jack whispered back, glad to finally be falling asleep wrapped around Bitty warm and happy and content.


	8. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally I'm not projecting my own anxiety on Jack. He's way more tactile than me. Anyway, a fic for my favorite chapter of OMGCP.

He should be sleeping. He’d told Bitty a half hour ago that he was going to lay down for a nap. And yet, he was still laying on his side, curled into himself, trying to stop the tightening thought spiral. He was practically choking on his anxiety - thinking about the next few games. What would happen if he lost? If he kept losing? 

What would happen to him if he didn’t prove himself? He was Jack Zimmermann - the crucial member in a hockey dynasty. He’d already failed once, what if he failed again? What if he couldn’t handle it? What if he let his team down, this close to having his hands hefting the weight of the cup? 

This wasn’t helping. He should be sleeping - he had a game that night. He needed his nap, otherwise, his pregame routine would be thrown off and then they really would lose. He would lose. And that was a whole ‘nother weight he was bearing right now. 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. There was no way he could sleep, not now. He was awake and buzzing, his whole skin vibrating. There was a lump in his throat and the covers were the wrong kind of heavy. He felt like he was suffocating. 

Bitty hummed as he walked past the bedroom door. He was spending his rainy Saturday filling Jack’s fridge. Bitty was here, in his apartment. The lump in his throat grew a little smaller and the icy tingles under his skin warmed. 

He threw back the covers. Meds help the anxiety attacks but nothing was better than physical contact. Tactile. A voice outside his own head telling him that he would be okay, that everything wasn’t riding on his shoulders. 

He had Bitty. He padded into the kitchen, watching Bitty for a second as he hummed and baked. He was so happy in this moment - should he really interrupt him? Bring him down as he chirped Jack. 

“Bitty,” tumbled out of his mouth, too soft to stop his boyfriend’s torrent of words. Then, “Bitty.” a little louder. 

He turned, concern in his does eyes, mouth contorted into a worried line. And then he was there, floury hands on Jack’s hand and his arm. And he smelled like Bitty, flour, and sunshine and he was warm in his concern and his touch. 

He had to say something, Bitty was worried about him. Both of them knew he wasn’t okay and it was up to him to explain why. Bitty needed to know if he was going to take care of him. So, haltingly, he explained. And when he had gotten the most he could out he let Bitty guide him to the couch. 

It was nice not to be alone. Amazing, really. Having someone to hold him close and tight and remind him that he was so much more than hockey. He’d missed it, it had been years since he’d had someone do this.

Bitty was so warm, the right kind of pressure in his lap, his smell and his warmth enveloping Jack. His skin stopped buzzing and he was able to explain what he was feeling. IT was the pressure of the cup and it was all on his shoulders. 

It made sense, then, when he told Bitty. Of course, he was anxious - this was a life-changing moment. Everything he did from here on out was pivotal to his - and his team’s - success. But he couldn’t look at it like that, it was crushing.

“One game at a time,” Bitty told him, and it lifted some of the weight on his shoulders. Bitty was proud of him, and loved him, no matter what. He was there to believe in Jack - especially on the days when he struggled to do it himself. Bitty was his fallback, his rock. His sun - the center of his universe.


	9. Moving Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack helps Bitty move out of the house. 
> 
> A short drabble for a short and sweet moment between my favorite boys.

They stood together on the porch of the Haus. Boxes were in the back of Jack’s SUV, and one more backpack lay at Bitty’s feet. The Haus was empty and quiet - the quietest it would be all year. And Bitty? He stood there, staring at the door, the heavy weight of the key in the palm of his hand.   
  
“You okay, bud?” Jack asked, leaning a hand forward to rest it on Bitty’s shoulders, rubbing a bit. Consoling. He knew how hard this could be.

“It’s just not easy to say goodbye, is all.”

Jack nodded, taking advantage of the empty street to kiss the cow-lick on Bitty’s head. “I know, bud but this kind is a good change, eh?”

“Yeah,” he sighed wistfully, finally locking the front door. “Good change, the start of something new. Just trying to get over that whole ‘goodbye’ part.”

“You’ll be back in the fall,” Jack said.

“For my last year,” Bitty said, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. “Then I’ll never be back here.”

“Oh, you’ll come back. We will come back, I know it. It’ll just be a different - and more scary change. But you have me. And I say we don’t need to worry about it till it gets here.” He picked Bitty’s bag up off the porch. “Wanna get Annie’s before we leave?”

“Do you even need to ask by now? You should just always assume that I am in desperate need of coffee.” He followed behind Bitty as he bounced down the porch stairs.

“Is there even any coffee in that spicy pumpkin thing you always get? Or is it just sugar?”

Bitty playfully glared at Jack when they were in the car. “Jack Zimmermann how many times do I need to tell you that pumpkin spice latte season is only in the fall!” Bitty squeezed the hand he was holding for emphasis. “Jesus, Lord, boy. It’s obviously Summer and they obviously have their new line of s’mores inspired drinks in.”

Jack pretended to gag. “I don’t understand how you drink that stuff.” Jack squeezed Bitty’s hand gave him a fond look. “But I love you enough to feed your addiction.”

“Thanks, babe.” Bitty took advantage of the stop sign at the end of the street to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you too.”

The car went quiet for a few moments, both of them taking the last glimpse of the Haus before turning the corner into town. Jack would miss the Haus - and the team. But he had Bitty, and Ransom and Holster were with Shitty and Lardo in Boston. They may be moving on but they weren’t moving far.

 


	10. Moving In

Jack didn’t think it was possible, but Bitty had brought even more warmth with him from Samwell. There were little pieces of Bitty everywhere in his apartment - the knitted throw on the couch, the phone charger on the bedside table, the toothbrush next to his in the sink. Jack’s closet was filled with tiny shorts and the kitchen drawers were bursting with obscure baking supplies. 

He’d never been happier. They had never been happier. Jack turned to look at Bitty, breaking down the last of the moving boxes, and grinned. This was the best Jack’s apartment had ever looked and he just wanted to stand right here, in the middle of it, and admire. 

“What are you so happy about?” Bitty asked, putting the box on the pile. “You’re grinnin’ like a hyena.” 

“I. It’s nice to have you all moved in.” He said, turning again to look towards the kitchen. The lump in his throat was pushing tears out of his eyes. “It’s nice to see little parts of you everywhere I look.” 

Bitty giggled. “Flatterer.” A hand ran up his back, tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. “And I like being all moved in, too. Makes me feel all warm and domestic inside.” 

“I love you,” Jack said, turning around and catching both of Bitty’s wrists in his hands. “Thank you for moving in with me.” 

“Thank you for takin’ my crazy on for a whole summer,” Bitty retorted. “I love you, too.” 

Jack leaned down, pressing his lips to Bitty’s. First gentle, light. But Bitty’s hands slipped out of Jack’s grip and slid around to grab his ass in both hands and squeeze. It never failed to do something to Jack, that primal sense of being so wanted and appreciated. 

Even if Bitty giggled while he did it. “Can’t wait to have all exclusive access to this ass for three months.” He sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna do a boy in, Mr. Zimmermann.” 

“Mmm,” Jack huffed a laugh in return. “That so?” He pressed his lips to Bitty’s again - harder and more firm this time. His tongue swept into Bitty’s mouth and he still tasted like stale Annie’s coffee. “You know,” Jack said, pulling away when Bitty was properly ravished. “My ass and I are quite sweaty after hauling all of your stuff. We need to go shower?” 

“Mmm,” Bitty said, raising up on his tiptoes to whisper, “Can we, uh, make that a threesome?” 

Jack laughed, picking Bitty up clear off the floor. “For you, my love. Anything.” 

He set him down in the bathroom, reaching in to turn the faucet on and make sure the temperature was to Bitty’s liking - scalding hot. By the time he turned around Bitty was standing there, naked, blushing.

“You really are ready,” Jack said, then when Bitty laughed at the innuendo he stuttered to correct himself. “For. For the shower. To get clean.” 

Bitty’s laugh died into a giggle. “Damn right I am ready,” He brushed past Jack on his way into the shower. “Now are you going to join me, or what?” 

Jack was grateful he’d forgone underwear that morning. It was blessedly easy to tug off his shirt and shorts and pounce on Bitty. Keeping them both under the hot water Jack kissed him again, hard. All tongue and teeth and a physical reminder of just how much he had missed Bitty. Missed this, the two of them pressed together, hands and mouths roaming. 

It was amazing. They’d told everyone to back off until tomorrow. Jack wanted a whole night together - just the two of them. Takeout, Netflix, staying up way too late and stumbling to bed. A reprieve before their lives had to start. 

And Jack realized, just before he followed Bitty to sleep, that for the next three months Jack would wake up to and fall asleep with this beautiful boy next to him. The next three months and maybe - just maybe - The rest of their lives.


	11. Slice of Life

God, Jack could start every day for the rest of his life like this. Waking up next to Bitty, all his senses flooded with him. The heavy weight of Bitty’s head on his chest, the smell of his shampoo and his morning breath, and the soft quiet sound of his snore. Mornings like this, it physically hurt to get out of bed. All Jack wanted to do was roll over and burrow into the soft, pliant, warmth of his boyfriend. But, there was a job to do. He had to go for a run and go to practice and everything else that dragged him out of this bed. 

He rolled over to turn off his alarm and carefully extricated himself from Bitty. God, that boy was clingy. Often, just getting out of bed without waking Bitty was an exercise in itself. And, like most mornings, Jack just stood at the foot of the bed for a few minutes to watch Bitty as he resettled. Curling himself around Jack’s pillow with a sleepy groan, his body painted with stripes of light from the half-open blinds. Jack always meant to take a picture and capture these moments forever. So he’d never forget. 

He reminded himself again that if he truly was lucky, if Bitty said yes to a certain question floating in the back of his mind, then Jack wouldn’t have to remember this. Every morning would be like this. Every morning for the rest of his life Jack could wake up wrapped in the warm, sleepy sunshine of the love of his life. And that was enough of a thought to wake him up, as warmth blossomed in his chest. 

With only a few backward glances, Jack changed into his running gear and left the bedroom to start the coffee. It wasn’t long after Jack left that Bitty woke up, and he was always complaining about how slow Jack’s coffee pot percolated. So Jack had altered a few minutes in his routine to make a pot of coffee and set it brewing so it was fresh and hot by the time Bitty got out of bed. For himself, Jack threw together a quick protein shake and ate a slice of (peach) pie before tugging on his tennis shoes and heading out for a run. 

As his feet pounded the pavement, Jack’s thoughts finished from his head. Running was his form of meditation - an hour or two of his life where he didn’t even think. Where the ever-rotating Ferris wheel of anxious thoughts wasn’t present. It was just his breathing and the pounding of feet against the pavement. The best way to start his morning, and honestly, the only good reason to get out of bed, anymore. Two hours had passed until Jack found himself looping back around a familiar block and heading to his apartment.

The doorman was up now and Jack gave a small wave. The wheel had started spinning again, now that he’d slowed down. It was trying to make up for lost time, spinning faster and faster. But Jack bit his tongue, forced his brain to think of other things. There was absolutely nothing to worry about. 

He still worried, and his hands shook as he tried to open his apartment door. 

Bitty was on the other side and just seeing him sent a sweep of relief through him. Bitty would always be here for him, no matter what. Even his anxiety couldn’t top that. So he pressed a kiss to the top of his sleep-rumpled hair and went to take a shower. 

The hot water washed everything off of him. The sweat of the run, the stress of anxiety and of being in the playoffs. After he brushed his teeth, took his meds he joined Bitty. By now he was awake enough to start breakfast. Bitty was standing at the counter chopping up veggies for omelets. He hummed low in his throat and leaned into the kiss Jack gave him. 

“Practice this morning?” Bitty asked, dumping the chopped veggies into a pan. 

“Practice every morning,” Jack sighed. “Oh well. I’m looking forward to it - Marty emailed me about some new training thing he wants to try. Get our speed up on the ice.” 

“Teach them all how to figure skate,” Bitty suggested, grinning and cracking eggs into the pan. “It’s how I got all my speed and agility.” 

Jack grinned. “Not a bad idea. It might help. We are kind of a bigger team, and - “ 

“Oh no. I’ve lost my boyfriend to Robot-Hockey-Captian,” Bitty teased, sliding a plate of eggs in front of him. “Meep, morp, zeep.” 

Jack snapped out of his idea. “Oh. Sorry,” 

“I don’t mind. It’s kinda cute how focused you are. I wish I could focus on hockey like that, but so many things get in the way. You know, the coaches are already emailing me to start strategizing for August?” 

“I do,” Jack said. “Only I started discussions with them in late April.” 

“You did not!” 

“The second our season ended, I was talking with them and with our old captain, and figuring out what the teams needed to succeed better next year.”  
“And that was?” Bitty had sat down next to him, looking at him with interest. “Tell me all your secrets.” 

Jack smiled and launched into a stilted explanation of all the things he and the coaches had tried to whip the boys into shape. Including, Jack said grinning, teaching the poor terrified freshman how to check. 

“I was not that terrified of you, Mr. Zimmermann.” 

“The fetal position you so often took on the ice begs to differ.” Jack took the empty plates to the dishwasher. 

“Then I get to pay you back. From now on, I’m dragging you out of bed to work on small talk. We’ll see who’s curled up in a ball then.” 

Jack laughed, putting the last fork in the dishwasher. A quick glance at the microwave clock and he was 5 minutes behind routine. He’d gotten too caught up in their conversation, and he was going to be late. Plus, he had to leave the dishes for Bitty to do. 

“You’re gonna be late, Mr,” Bitty said, also looking at the time. 

“I know,” Jack said. He was tense. He hated being late, and 5 minutes was a lot of time to make up. He’d be late, and the guys would chirp him and - he bit his lip. Bitty ran a hand up his back. 

“Hey, you go get dressed. I’ll pack your bag. K?” 

Jack forced his lungs to take in the air. “Yeah, thanks Bits.” His voice was still breathy. “Don’t forget- “ 

“Your lucky socks. I know, Jack. I’ve only seen you pack your hockey bag 4,000 times by now.” He kissed Jack on the cheek. “And if you’re late, what do we say?” 

“Oh well.” 

“Just be five minutes early tomorrow.” 

Jack kissed Bitty’s cheek, grateful. Any other morning (without Bitty) he’d have been 10 minutes late. Too much of his life was wasted panicking over things he couldn’t fix. But now, he might actually be on time. His usual gym clothes were clean and folded - favorites on the top of the drawer. And when he came out of the bathroom Bitty handed him his duffel, keys, and a protein shake. 

“You didn’t eat much this morning. There is also a bottle of water in the side pouch.” 

Jack gave him a long goodbye kiss. Thanks to Bitty, he had a minute to spare. A minute that was easily spent giving Bitty a kiss to remember him by. 

Breathless, and with Bitty’s hands pushing him out the door he was on his way to practice. He was grinning. Damn near skipping. Mornings with Bitty just got more and more magical, the longer they lived together. He hoped the rest of his days were spent just like this morning. 

Marty chirped him in French about the grin on his face when he walked in the locker room. Jack blushed a deep red and pointedly told Marty that no, he did not “get some” this morning. He’d just gotten a good night’s sleep. Marty still waggled an eyebrow at him. 

Jack made sure to “accidentally” check him into the boards during a scrimmage. 

He ducked out of post-practice drinks in favor of going home. Sure, it meant more chirping (and several whip cracking noises). But the stress of being in the playoffs was setting into his bones and all he wanted was to go home and eat shitty takeout on the couch with Bitty. Bake a pie and tease him as he painstakingly photographed his latest creation. 

But there were no sounds of baking coming from the kitchen. No clinking, clanking and occasional swearing. He shouldered his way through the door and the first thing he saw was Bitty’s pie half finished. 

Bitty never half finished a pie. 

Bitty - where was he? Was he okay? Horrifying images of burns, cuts, collapsing, and a million other things flooded Jack’s mind. His stomach clenched, threatening to get rid of his post-practice granola bar. 

He heard something from the bedroom. A light sniff, the blowing of a nose. Bitty was crying, in their bedroom. He was huddled in the middle of Jacks’ bed, hunched over into a ball. And he was crying - but so obviously trying to hide that fact. 

Without a moment's hesitation, Jack kicked off his tennis shoes and curled himself around Bitty. He was tactile, and Bitty relaxed as Jack pulled him into his lap. 

He whispered into Bitty’s hair. “Hey, shhh. Hey bud, it’s okay. What happened?” His heart ached as he felt Bitty’s tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. His heart throbbed more as Bitty stuttered out his explanation. 

“H - honey - I.” And another sob. “I just don’t have the words” 

Jack murmured something against his hair. He knew Bitty’s pain all too well, and he knew there was nothing he could say. All he could do was let Bitty know that he was here. That he’d always be there. So he held Bitty tightly to his chest, and let him sob into his shirt. 

“You’ll tell her,” Jack said into his hair when the sobbing had subsided. “You’ll tell her when you’re ready. “

“Yeah,” Bitty said, his jaw shaking, words stuttering. “Yeah. You’re right.” Then realization dawned in his eyes. “I was making a pie!”

“Yes, you were,” Jack said. “I saw it unfinished on the counter. And honestly, I thought you were dead.” 

Bitty laughed, snot blowing out both of his nostrils. “Ugh, I’m a mess.” 

Jack just handed him a kleenex and kissed his temple. “That’s okay. I love you all the same. Messy, closeted. Everything that makes you Bitty.” 

Bitty snuggled in closer. “That pie can be finished later right?” 

“Of course.” He paused. “I’ll go put it in the fridge though?” He knew Bitty hated wasting good ingredients. “You shower.” 

“You’re perfect,” Bitty said, sliding off the bed. “Grab our coziest blankets and meet me on the couch in ten.”  
“Yessir.” He kissed Bitty on the temple one more time. “I love you. No matter what, you know that right?” 

“I know. Now go make the best cuddle nest of our goddamn lives.”


	12. Stop the World

His blood was thundering through his whole body. It had been for weeks, now. All of the anticipation, anxiety, fear, and overwhelming excitement coursing through his body. His heart - his emotions - had been working overtime for what felt like forever. 

For seven games. 

For the Stanley Cup Playoffs. 

For that brief second that had felt like a year. The thundering, earthshattering "thwack" of his stick hitting the puck. 

And everything was thundering. On a new level. It was no longer internal - it was everywhere. Every cell of his body was thundering, his team was thundering, the crowds were thundering. His whole world was one, loud joyous roar at the simultaneous realization that he'd won. 

They’d won. Jack Zimmermann was a fucking Stanley Cup champion. 

But still, overall that shouting. Overall the thundering he heard it. His name, that accent. That everything. Jack could find Bitty across a thousand miles as long as he could hear Bitty’s voice. Everything slowed down a few beats, Bitty’s voice calming the absolute rush of emotion in his body. 

And then it was all quiet. The last weeks of heart-clenching anxiety, the hordes of people around him, the beating of his own heart all went silent. Invisible. Everything, as Bitty launched himself at Jack - half tripping, half jumping. And Jack pulled him close, so tight. It was a hug that screamed non-platonic, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He’d won the Stanley Cup, and he was holding the love of his life. Everything in this moment was perfectly joyous. No room for anxiety. No room for the thunderous din of the outside world. It was just Bitty and Jack. Together, holding each other so tight as time and the crowds slipped away. 

The thundering in his heart came back. But it wasn’t external. The internal roar had focused on this boy he held so tightly. It was in his heart, yes, but it was also somewhere deeper. It was a need that pushed at him, the same way it had urged him on Graduation Day. Every part of this sense told him “This is the one. This is the moment. Kiss him.” It was a need. He needed this boy more than he needed nothing else.   
“God Bits. I wish I could kiss you.” He whispered, not even scratching the surface of this deep well of pure need. 

For a second it was quiet again. Jack wasn’t even sure Bitty had heard him until he pulled away. His eyes were round as saucers, and he was looking up at Jack with an unreadable expression. The same expression Jack had stared into after his first kiss. 

“Kiss me.” 

It was that moment his anxiety snapped back into the picture. The real world started creeping in, blurring the edges of what was him, and what wasn’t. Had Bitty really said that? He couldn’t have. They couldn’t. The press, his family, everyone. They had had a moment, yes, but there was the rest of the world to think of. Right? 

He said it. 

No. That wasn’t right. 

His anxiety said it. 

His body, this urge of his, screamed at him to just stop arguing. Bitty was right, they could do this. They had to do this. It was their moment, and Jack didn’t know if they would ever have anything like these long seconds ever again. He had to. For the first time in his life, this was a battle he needed to win. 

“Kiss me,” Bitty whispered, his face angling up towards Jack. Grinning, because he knew that Jack had given up all semblance of a protest. 

And, how could he not? 

The first brush of lips and they couldn’t go back. Jack grabbed Bitty, drawing him close. Crushing their mouths, their bodies together. His neck hurt from the angle, but he didn’t care. Bitty was wrapping an arm around the back of his head, pulling them even closer. Teeth clacked, and the angle was all wrong, but this was Bitty. 

He was kissing Bitty in front of everyone. The whole world. His parents, Bitty’s parents. Their friends.Those fuckers from ESPN, his team, the entire fucking NHL and all their fans. 

But none of that mattered. The world was gone. The world was Bitty’s lips, Bitty’s body held so tight against him. All their senses in tune. Together. 

Two against the world.


End file.
